Lover Of The Light
by vampbirch
Summary: "There's this new girl in town. I call her Brightside. Emmett likes her, but he says she smells like trees. I think she smells good, like lavender... anyway, I think she's going to have my baby." A story about a boy who made a mistake. Or two. AU-AH, short chapters/frequent updates.
1. March 16th, 2012 9:48 pm

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **March 16th, 2012**

 **9:48 p.m.**

I am simple. Boring. I don't really possess any redeeming qualities that I think make me better than anyone else in this hick town. Nothing about me can save me from this hellhole. I am who I am, where I am, and those are the two foremost things I cannot change about myself.

I go to school. I do my paper route. I try to get all As, and then I try to get all Bs, but I end up getting all Cs, because before I know it I've blown through half of the semester and I haven't learned a thing. I set goals to do better, be better... but this is me. Friday evening through Sunday morning, I'm trashed.

I am no better.

I hate country music, but every other goddamn radio station in this town is country and it's all I ever hear.

Like right now.

I have an iPod, but all of the music is pretty old. It doesn't stop me from listening, though. Even if all that's playing is the worst kind of grunge rock, it can't be worse than fucking country. It just can't.

"Hey." I hear a pretty voice, but I don't look up from the beer in my hand. This town is filled with them: Beers and pretty voices. "Is this seat taken?"

I don't know why I am supposed to look up, but I do it anyway. I'm not disappointed.

She is just as pretty as her voice sounds. Warm brown eyes. Gossamer pink lips. Cheeks tinted with the slightest blush. Dark mahogany hair, with a tint of strawberry. She looks sweet and... new.

I don't know why I scoot over, but I do it anyway. Again, I'm not disappointed.

The girl slides into the vacant seat beside me and flashes me a friendly smile. I can smell her now. Lavender, vanilla, and the bittery sweet smell of malt liquor. "Do you go to school around here?"

That's a stupid question. There isn't another school for miles, unless she's insinuating that I'm a dropout. Which ... well over half of these people are.

I look to welcoming brown eyes, and the bitter feeling in the pit of my stomach is warmed. But it's not even that I'm drunk, it's just the look in this strange girl's eyes that puts me at an unnatural ease.

I look away, then back to her. I'm awkward, and I'm certainly not the friendliest here.

Why she chose to sit here is beyond me.

Finally, I open my mouth to respond. "I'm a junior."

She smiles effortlessly, and I wonder how it's so easy for her. No one smiles around here. "I'm Bella. Heidi brought me here."

I have no idea who Heidi is. I don't really care enough to ask though, either. I know five people at this party, although I've been around every single one of these kids every day since preschool.

Except for her. I definitely would have remembered meeting her.

"Edward" I stick my hand out, like I think a normal person would. Before I can second-guess myself, she shakes my hand.

Her lambent smile is unbreakable as she looks around herself. "I hate country music. What are you listening to?"

My lips curve up against my will and I hold an earbud out to her. "Kings of Leon. You want to listen?"

She nods, grinning widely.

This isn't me. I don't share earbuds. I don't share anything, with anyone. But I like warm trusting eyes and pretty coral-colored smiles. I like this sweet scented stranger and her friendliness. Maybe Bella reminds me of something I haven't had in a while.

Like new beginnings.


	2. March 17th, 2012 12:38 am

**March 17th, 2012**

 **12:38 a.m.**

New Beginnings is laughing, and I think it's because of me. Whether at me or with me, I don't care. I think I just want to make this girl laugh. She has a pretty smile and straight teeth, and her laugh kind of sounds like music. Non-country music.

I haven't seen Emmett yet, but I think he sees me talking to a girl and thinks he's doing me a favor by not coming over.

"Do you know which college you want to go to?"

She doesn't miss the way I freeze up and blanch at the question. I look up at her through my lashes, and I have to push my hair away from my face. I need a haircut. "College?"

"Oh, come on." She hits my shoulder. "Don't feed me any of that 'I can't go to college because I'm dumb and poor' crap."

She doesn't miss the way I drop my jaw. It makes her laugh. "What if I really am dumb and poor?" I try to stop smiling long enough to take a drink of my beer that I definitely don't need any more of.

She shrugs, smiling down at the ground. Her cheeks are flushed, and I can't tell if it's from the alcohol or if it's something I said. "Welcome to the club."

"Bella." I shake my head. "I've known you for three hours, and this is probably the most intelligent conversation I've ever had with another human being in this town."

"Ouch. That sucks for you. But okay." She nods. "We're the intelligent kids, then. The nerds."

"I wouldn't go that far." I purse my lips.

I feel loopy. I feel drunk. I feel jumbled.

I want to know this girl, though. "Why'd you come here?"

She sighs. "I told you, Heidi brought me."

I still have no idea who the fuck Heidi is, but I'm not sure that I like her. I mean, she obviously doesn't care enough about her friend to come check on her. And if I don't know Heidi, she obviously doesn't know me.

"No, not here. To this town."

Earthy brown eyes flicker around the party of loud, country-loving teenagers. "You still haven't answered my question."

I furrow my brows. "What?"

"About college. What do you want to do?" Bella leans forward with her elbows planted to the table, like she really finds this topic interesting.

So I decide to humor her. "What if I want to drive trucks?"

She snorts. It's cute. "Aren't you big dream believer? I can help you out there, bud. I know some truckers."

"You know some truckers?" I laugh without humor. "That sounds a little sketchy."

"So does wanting to be a trucker. No offense. I know truckers. Obviously. But…" she sighs, puffing her cheeks out. "Have you ever seen Joy Ride?"

I furrow my brows and contain my laugh at the bizarre change in conversation. "Um, is that a movie or something?"

She nods carefully, sensing my confusion. "Yeah. Why? Don't you watch movies?"

I shake my head, holding her gaze. "No."

She feigns a gasp of shock. "No." She puts her hand over her heart. "Edward, excuse my fucking French, but you live in the shittiest town on the planet. What the hell do you do all day when you're not-not learning school?"

I can't help it, I bust out laughing.

She does, too. "Do you work on a farm or something?"

I shake my head, still laughing. "Um." I rub the back of my neck. "I don't really do much. I have a paper route. Sometimes I work at the market. I'm a bag boy when they need me."

"Oh." She nods. "So you _are_ bored."

I shrug, looking around the clearing, where people are gathered around the fire. No one really looks happy to be here. Except maybe Bella. "Who isn't bored?"

She's quiet.

"What, you aren't bored?" I laugh.

This girl's timid smile is the kind you could light up a room with. "No. I'm not. I _can_ be. I just don't let myself get like that. People get bored, and they get sulky and sappy. Time is precious, you know? We should be trying to make each second seem as fulfilling as possible."

I just stare at her for a moment. "That sounds exhausting."

"Hey, man." I look up and see my brother with his girlfriend under his arm, grinning down at the picnic table we sit at. "We were about to head out."

"Okay." I look to Bella, and flick my eyes back to Emmett. "Bella, this is my brother, Emmett, and that's Rosalie."

Rose smiles at Bella. "Hey. You're friends with Heidi, right?"

Still, no clue who Heidi is.

Bella nods. "She's my cousin."

"She's probably going to subject you to cheerleading or something."

Bella lifts her eyebrows, her lips parting without sound. "There's a cheerleading squad here?"

Rose nods, smirking at her knowingly. "But no football. Heidi didn't tell you she was captain?"

She shakes her head slowly, seemingly confused. "Oh god. That sounds awful." She rubs her cheek. "Please tell me you have to pass tryouts or something."

Rose scrunches her nose up, which I'm assuming means no.

"Ugh." Bella buries her head in her hands, and I wonder where the look-at-the-brightside girl I just saw two seconds ago went. "This has disaster written all over it."

"Hey, I could always tell her that you're joining my photography club," Rose offers.

Bella lifts an eyebrow at her, peeping up from her hands. "You have a photography club?"

Rose grins. "As far as she knows. I hate cheerleading too. Any sort of gymnastics, really. Once a month, I just go around taking pictures of random shit and I show them to her at the end of each month. They even put a picture I took in the yearbook last year."

Emmett chuckles and kisses Rose's temple. "Baby, you're insane."

"Oh thank god." Bella laughs, dropping her hands to her lap. "I will take _as many_ pictures as you want, just don't let me near that."

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm anti-cheerleading. It's, like, the first step into fascism." They laugh together, and I'm ready to yell at Rose for stealing my Brightside away from me. "No, I'm kidding. Ish. But we have to go, before my dad finds out I'm still gone."

"Oh okay, it was nice meeting you." Bella waves while Rose and Emmett leave, not fast enough for my liking. Brightside sighs then, looking up at me through her lashes. "You want to get another drink?"

I don't think I'm going to get enough time with this girl, so I nod.


	3. March 17th, 2012 3:25 am

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **March 17th, 2012**

 **3:25 a.m.**

There are two things of which I am absolutely sure of in my state of inebriation: one, this is _such_ a bad idea. Two, and most assuredly, Heidi is a shitty cousin and a terrible friend, because I still don't know who she is, and she hasn't made herself known to me or Bella all night.

Other than that, things are pretty hazy.

"Are you sure about this?" Bella shivers and leans into me for warmth. It's kind of the best thing that's ever happened to me.

We're standing between my screen and front door while I struggle to remember which key goes to my house, my aunt's, my mom's car, my car, and the garage door. I only need one key, but I still carry them all around.

I'm so fucking stupid.

I love how I realize this now, of all times. While I'm plastered, and trying to sneak this beautiful and equally-if-not-just-as intoxicated girl into my room so that we can get even more shitfaced. This is what it took for me to realize what an idiot I am.

Bella sees my struggle, and she busts out laughing at my obvious predicament.

"Shh," I tell her, but I don't really mean it. I'm in love with this girl's laugh. Nobody laughs anymore, and I'm ready to record hers to help me sleep at night. Because I am a creep. "My mom might be home."

I finally find the right key. It turns out that I had it right the first time; I had just put it in upside down.

Because I am a numb-nut like that.

"Oh no, Edward." Bella stops in the doorway, turning pale. "Um ... I really shouldn't be here."

"What?" I look around myself, wondering where the hell that came from. "Are you past curfew or something?"

"Um." She laughs, looking around herself before dropping her gaze to the ground. "Yeah. I mean, obviously. But I can't disrespect your mom by coming into her house without her knowing."

I look at this girl like she's crazy.

Is she serious?

"Shut up." I grab her forearm and pull her through the threshold, kicking the door shut behind me. "My room is the second door on the right."

She stumbles ahead of me, looking around the house that I'm glad is too dark for her to see. It's probably a mess. There's probably a sink full of dishes and the coffee table is probably covered with unpaid bills. Emmett probably got fast food and made a mess that Rose or I will have to clean up in the morning, if either of us even wakes up before noon. Assuming Rose isn't in huge fucking trouble, like Emmett always gets her in.

I follow Bella to my bedroom in slow, careful steps. I'm not afraid to get caught, but I am afraid to trip.

I'm too drunk. My vision is a little hazy, my shoulders feel a little heavy, and my head kind of hurts. I'm not thinking straight, and I know this. But I don't want to let this girl go home yet.

I shut the door to my room, and slip my shoes off while Brightside immediately discovers my collection and starts flipping through a bin of CDs that sit on the edge of my bed. "Whoa, these are all so old."

I shrug out of my jacket. "Are you making fun of me?"

"I would never." She holds up a _Manchester Orchestra_ album. "I like this band. Can we listen to it?"

I nod my head to the CD player before I walk over to my chest of drawers to pull out a bag of green and toss it on the bed. I find my lighter while she tries to work the CD player. I crawl up my bed to get my bong from the nightstand and I fill the bowl as _I've Got Friends_ fills the room.

"Is it too loud?" she asks. She turns around and I notice the flannel cotton shirt she has on has one button undone that it didn't before we left Jake Black's party earlier.

I make observations like this, but I can't even pass gym class without getting a C- because I always forget to bring my shoes.

I am a typical teenage boy.

I shake my head. "Turn it up."

She turns it up, and music about knowing the truth about friendship helps calm my nerves as she drops down on the bed beside me.

I take a hit. I lift the bowl and look to her as the smoke hits the back of my throat.

Bella's eyes are low, and she looks like she's a little too drunk to think clearly. The eyeliner under her left eye is a little smeared, but she still looks pretty with the shadows on her face. Her strawberry-red, brown hair is a little frizzy, but it still looks soft and smells like vanilla and lavender. It's not even a cheap vanilla, it's sweeter but not so pungent. Like French Vanilla.

She doesn't need to get high, but that's why we came here. At least, that's why she wants to be here. I just don't want to say goodbye yet.

I pass the bong to her, and she has to tuck her hair behind her ears before she places her lips over the mouthpiece. I light the bowl for her, and wait until she fills the chamber before lifting the metal from the glass piece.

She blows smoke between her lips slowly and soundless, and I find myself licking my own as I watch her.

"How old are you?" I mentally palm my face once I realize what I've said.

She looks up at me, smirking. "Um ... Sixteen. Why? You going to tell me that you're really thirty?"

I clear my throat, averting my gaze to stare down at my red and black plaid ruffled sheets. "No, I'm sixteen. I was just curious."

She looks around the room again and lays back to rest on her elbows, biting her lip as she scans her eyes over the shelf above our heads. "Do you like baseball?"

I shake my head, leaning back on my elbows to rest beside her. "My dad played. I like to watch sometimes, but I can't play."

She tilts her head back. "Can't?"

I nod, not really in the mood to elaborate. Everything is a little hazy, and I keep looking at her lips and her cheeks and forgetting what I mean to talk about.

I notice a lot about Bella that I didn't before.

She has three freckles in a row speckled along her left cheek that I didn't see before but can't stop looking at now in the cheap yellow-lamp lighting in my room.

Not only is she the first girl I've ever invited in my room, but she's also the first girl to sit on my bed and it's all I keep thinking about.

I'm not an amateur.

I've kissed girls, and then I've done things―other things with them. Sex and girls don't make me nervous. She does.

I don't want to use Bella.

I mean, I do. But I don't want to give her back.

I want to kiss Bella. I want to do so much to her. But tonight isn't nearly enough, and I'm afraid that if I get to kiss her now I might not get to do it again.

Maybe it's because I'm an idiot, or maybe it's because I'm drunk. Maybe it's because I'm high and I'm typical teenage-boy-minded. Maybe it's because Brightside's lips are too close to think, but it seems worth risking when I catch her looking at my lips too.

I close my eyes and whisper, "Fuck it."


	4. March 17th, 2012 Unknown

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **March 17th, 2012**

 **Unknown**

 _I close my eyes and I whisper, "Fuck it."_

 _._

I open my eyes, and Bella's beneath me. She's twisting her fingers into my hair and she's breathing through her nose while she kisses me relentlessly. I'm swallowing her moans and I'm trying to keep quiet myself, but _Manchester Orchestra_ is still screaming at me in the background and I kind of want to scream too.

.

I close my eyes and I can't open them fast enough. Her breath washes over me, and I dig the tips of my fingers into the soft pillow-like flesh above her jeans. Her teeth close around my bottom lip, and I push my hips against hers.

.

"More."

.

I open my eyes and she's straddling my waist while her fingers work to undo the buttons on my shirt. I'm trying to help her because she isn't moving fast enough. She's laughing, and it's my favorite sound in the world. She kisses the skin of my chest, and I stop breathing.

.

Bella takes her shirt off, and suddenly I'm air-hungry. Her bra is purple and there's a black bow on each strap.

It's cute. I tell her she's adorable.

I nip along her chest and she starts heaving. I groan and she starts giggling.

.

Fingernails pinch the flesh beneath my forearm, and I hook my fingers around her jeans and underwear. Bella tells me not to judge her. I tell her I would never.

.

I close my eyes and I'm not sure about any of this. I'm seeing my world through clouded half-closed lids and my heart is pounding in my throat. I'm so fucking thirsty, but I think I want Bella more. I want to hear this girl's sighs for the rest of my life. But I'm sixteen and maybe I'll feel like this with a lot of girls in my lifetime.

I doubt it.

.

Brightside is pushing me away, and I'm trying to tell her that I wasn't finished. She's laughing and telling me that she isn't either. She's struggling to undo the buckle on my belt, but this is funny to her because she's Brightside. I'm laughing now, too, and this is kind of what I imagined heaven to feel like. Laughing without having to try.

.

Bella's hands are on me and I'm not laughing anymore. She kisses the skin below my ear, and I shut my eyes because this is all going to be over too soon and I can't do anything to stop it.

.

I look at the brightside when I roll us over and she wraps her legs around my waist. She tells me to go slow, and I tell her I wouldn't have it any other way.

.

I open my eyes, and I can't hold my head up. I'm drunk and this feels too good for words. I can't push hard enough and I can't get deep enough. I bury my nose in Brightside's beautiful hair and I kiss this skin below her ear. She tells me that I feel amazing and I tell her that she feels better.

.

I close my eyes, and pressure builds within. I can't keep a steady rhythm because I'm chasing after greater heights now. Bella's moans are getting louder and harder to drown out, and I'm getting sloppy and I'm pushing harder than I know what slow qualifies as.

.

I try to tell Bella before it happens, because for some reason it feels like she should know, but I get lost when I lift my head and she locks her lips with mine. I forget about everything that matters, and I sink into her while my release racks me.

.

I roll over, and I can't open my eyes long enough to see Brightside one last time. I want to so bad, but sleep is suffocating me and I'm hanging onto the image of the last time I looked at her with her hair splayed around my pillow and her lips parted.

.

I find her hand beneath a mountain of blankets and I hope that she'll still be here when I open my eyes again. I say her name, and blackness envelopes me.


	5. March 17th, 2012 9:30 am

**March 17th, 2012**

 **9:30 a.m.**

There's this moment before I open my eyes, before I register the internal pounding and before I have any recollection of the previous night's events transpired, when all I smell is weed and vanilla. My ears are ringing, my head is stinging, my stomach feels weak, and my limbs feel heavy. I don't want to wake up, but alertness is involuntary.

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the rain, heavy and thudding against the window. Fat rain drops seep through the crack of the slightly ajar window, and I launch myself off of the bed to shut it before my bedroom floods.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the paraphernalia on my nightstand, and then I remember that there was a girl in here last night. In my room. On my bed. With me. _Beneath me._

I turn around and I feel my heart bottom out my stomach.

She's not there anymore. My bed is empty. My covers are a piled up at the end of my bed, my sheets ruffled. No Brightside.

I try not to feel disappointed. I mean, really, why _would_ she still be here?

I find a towel to throw over the puddle of water beneath my bedroom window and go to the hall bathroom. I try to find something to cure the persistent pounding in my frontal lobe, but all I find is a bottle of chewable aspirin. I take five of them and attempt to control my racing heart, but my anxiety is becoming one with me. I can't seem to get a grip on reality.

 _This has to be what death feels like._

"HAPPY ST. PATTY'S DAY!" The scream nearly makes my heart jump from my ribs, and I have to hold onto the bathroom counter for support. Rosalie is standing in front of me, covered in green and smiling sloppily. She's wearing striped green leggings, green slippers, and a glittery green tank. Her hair ... that's green, too.

I clear my throat, kind of wishing she'd go away because I really have to pee. "Rose, are you even Irish?"

She shifts on the soles of her flats, and I frown down at the girl my brother claims he loves who smells like aerosol and beer, and it's not even ten o' clock yet.

"No, dude." She smirks and points to the fake four leaf clover tattoo on her cheek. "Everybody is Irish on St. Patrick's day. Are you coming to the parade with us?"

I furrow my brows at her. "There's a parade?"

She takes another step into the bathroom and extends her hand up to touch my neck. I immediately cower backwards, furrowing my brows at her. "Sorry." She drops her hand, staring at my neck. "Um, what is _that_?"

"What?" I straighten out, naturally panicking.

"On your neck." She leans in until her nose is practically touching my neck. This girl has no concept of personal space. "Oh em _fucking_ gee! Edward!"'

Her scream startles me, once again. I jump backwards and clutch onto my neck, getting angrier at her vagueness by the second.

"What?!" I yell, backing away from her because Rosalie is undoubtedly the strangest girl on the planet and maybe I don't trust her not to crack and shank me with my own toothbrush one day.

She gasps, her eyes widening as if she's spotted a bug. "And your _back_!" Her eyes widen, as she grasps onto my shoulder. I feel a small ache, and start to make the connection at where her astonishment is coming from. _The girl_. "No way ... you made the moves on the new girl!" She smiles.

 _"He did WHAT?!"_ My brother's voice comes from somewhere else inside the house, and I feel my cheeks set aflame with embarrassment as Rosalie tries to assess my skin condition.

Shit.

Rose gasps, pointing to my shoulder. "Edward, did you―"

I shake my head vehemently, backing her out of the bathroom. "No."

"Just tell me if it was her."

I keep shaking my head. "No. Go."

"Edward, I won't tell―"

"No." I slam the door shut as soon as I have her backed into the hallway, and my migraine reaches its peak. Weakened by the pain in my head and a hangover-induced heaviness in my limbs, I slide down to the bathroom floor and bury my head in my hands.

 _"Edward, there's nothing to be ashamed of!"_ Rose calls from the other side of the door, banging on the wood relentlessly. _"I have one night stands with your brother all the time!"_

I don't miss the way she says 'one night', and it doesn't fail to make me flinch, because I'm thinking about Bella's smile as soon as she says it. I feel my teeth sink into my bottom lip and the fire in my cheeks spread to my ears as the embarrassment fades to anger.

There's pang after pang of regret filling my gut, and viciously, whirling thoughts circling in my head. The previous night floods back to me subtly, repressed images and emotion-provoking moments.

Brightside's smile. A laugh. Another smile. Another laugh. _So much_ laughing. Her telling me that I should smile more. Me telling her that she should too. Flirting. _So much_ flirting. Taking a shot of Jake Black's jaeger and watching her nose scrunch up in disgust. Watching her sing _Fans_ , and not being able to control my own laughter. Trying to make an excuse so that I wouldn't have to let her go.

Mustering up the courage to kiss her. Rasping for forgotten air when she kissed me back. Looping my fingers between locks of hair when I tried to pull her closer to me. Seeing her smile when I ducked my head down to kiss her back.

Suddenly, the air in the bathroom is too thick to breathe. The tightness in my chest is unbearable, and the consequences of my decisions are coming back to me in the aching form of regret.

I can hear her moans, her sighs. I don't even know her last name, but I know what she sounds like when she's writhing beneath me.

I don't let myself think anymore, don't try to remember. She's not here. She left without me knowing, so it's not supposed to feel this bad that she's gone. Maybe she thinks I got what I wanted, that I don't want anything else to do with her. Maybe she just had to get home. Maybe she was just disgusted with herself, or maybe with me.

I tug on fistfuls of hair between my hands when I wonder if she'll smile for me when she sees me again, because I don't know.

What I don't know about her, and last night, and tomorrow: it's all killing me. I think I lost New Beginnings, but I _don't know._ I don't even know her fucking phone number.

I cover my mouth with my hand and shut my eyes against light that suddenly stings, too bright.

"Fuck."


	6. March 17th, 2012 11:46 am

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **March 17th, 2012**

 **11:46 a.m.**

My mom comes home from work with an exhausted look on her face and a thirty pack under her arm. The woman who saves lives ruins her own with liver abuse, and I'm not going to spend my Saturday waiting around for her to get drunk enough to yell at me.

I throw on a green shirt and the same jeans I wore last night, and ride with Emmett and Rose to the parade.

I split a joint with Rose while Emmett focuses on driving, because, you know, responsible driving and all. Rose makes us listen to _the_ _Naked and Famous_ , which is kind of catchy but a little too girly. She plays _Young Blood_ and we blow smoke out the cracked tinted windows in Emmett's Crown Vic.

A song about an unforgettable girl worth writing songs over starts playing when we reach the parade in Town's square. Emmett has to park down the street, but it's fine because I'd much rather walk than stand around a bunch of screaming assholes who are bead-greedy.

People flood around me as I walk down the usually-vacant street behind Emmett and Rose, gabbing and yelling, dressed like leprechauns and slurring like drunk idiots. Everybody looks happy, because they're fucked up or too young to understand that St. Patty's Day is a bullshit holiday.

There's country music everywhere, so I find my iPod in my back pocket and scroll through my playlists. I stop mid-walk when I see something new, something unexpected.

 _"B. Swans Favorite Jams. 314-484-7878."_

It's filled with the best kind of music.

I can't stop smiling after that. Not when this random drunk girl knocks into me and spills her drink on my shoes. Not when Jake Black pulls my earbuds out of my ear and yells so loud that it hurts. Not when Emmett says my neckline looks like a cheetah.

Not even when I look across the parade, and spot Bella Swan looking at me.

She looks tired and hungover. She looks beautiful, but she doesn't look pissed. Not even close. Warm brown eyes are on mine. Cheeks are tinged pink from the cold, and her hair is blowing in the rain-scented wind. The guy next to her shakes her shoulder, and I remember her telling me she has a brother.

Before she looks at him, she lifts a hand, slowly at first, before shooting it up in the air to wave at me.

It's kind of the best thing to ever happen to me.


	7. March 19th, 2012 8:20 am

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **March 19th, 2012**

 **8:20 a.m.**

I don't hate much.

Hate is a strong word, but from the bottom of my heart, I hate country music. I hate drug dealers and rapists, and lagging Wi-Fi. I hate ear wax and scratched CDs. I hate guys around me who claim they didn't choose the thug-life―the thug-life chose them. It's stupid: they're not thugs, they're hoosiers.

I really hate my car.

I'm driving down a road that no one ever really goes down unless they're in the mood to break the law and speed, but I go down it because I can't push my stupid car over thirty. It's a rusty, orange station wagon, and it's my worst fucking nightmare.

Today, my car decides that it hates me, too.

It starts when I have to push harder on the gas to get up this stupid hill that I have to turn on to get to highway B. I can feel this bitch shaking beneath my hands, like it's ready to explode or something. I push harder and harder, but then it starts groaning. So I finally ease up on the gas pedal, and then it just dies.

Everything shuts off. The car stops moving. There's no warning; it just gives the fuck up.

I twist the key in the ignition.

Nothing. Not even a sound.

I hate my life.

"No," I say, because I don't believe this shit. "No. Are you fucking kidding me?"

This is my worst fucking nightmare.

I'm stuck on a road leading into a town that no one comes onto unless they have no intention of ever leaving, in a car that hasn't acquired a heating system since the nineties. I'm without a cellphone or even a fucking proper coat to wear because I'm the dumbass who wore a hoodie to school because I was too lazy to check the weather before I left.

" _Fuck!"_ I scream into the steering wheel, because screaming helps everything.

I am a lost cause.

I twist the key in the ignition again, because that worked so well the first time. I do it again, and again. Finally, I just get out of the car and try to see what's wrong with the engine. I pop the hood, and have to hold it open because my car is ancient and there's nothing to hold it up with.

I look down at the engine, and I blanch.

It's exactly what I imagine rocket science to be like.

I'm touching one hose that looks a little wet and I'm trying to find out what it does and where it belongs, and that's when I hear a car door slam closed behind me. I don't bother turning around, because I'm still mulling over how complex car engines are and I think that there's no way I'm ever going to figure this out.

"You need help?"

It's the best kind of voice, and it makes my heart threaten to jolt from my ribcage.

I start to shoot up, but my head slams against the roof of the hood, and I feel my brain shatter. My head throbs, and I groan aloud. It hurts like a bitch.

I rub the spot that I hit to soothe the ache and close my eyes to try and downplay the humiliation and pain I feel.

I hate myself.

"Oh shit." I hear Brightside hiss, and I feel warm fingers splay over my own. "Ouch. That looked brutal, dude. Are you alright? Please don't die on me."

"No." I open my eyes and look up at the almond-eyed girl that I can't stop thinking about. I drop my hands to my sides and let go of the hood, because just looking at this girl weakens me.

The hood doesn't even close. Figures.

I shake my head when I realize what I've said. "I mean, I'm fine. I'm not dying."

I can't believe that she's here, like right in front of me. Maybe I hit my head too hard.

Bella is dressed in a hoodie similar to my own, but this girl's not wearing pants. She's wearing a skirt that seems loose, but too short, and a pair of black ballet flats. Her strawberry-red tinted, brown hair is unkempt and wavy, tossed over her shoulder and cascading wildly over her hoodie.

She looks like she just woke up, and she's already Brightside-beautiful.

After a moment of observing me, she nods carefully, her eyes skeptical. "Um, so, what's up with your car? Do you need a second opinion? I'm no expert, but it looks like you've got oil all over your engine compartment."

Of course she knows. Rocket science would be simple to this girl.

"Um." I tear my eyes away from hers and look back to the car. "I don't know, honestly. I—Wait, shouldn't you be in school?"

She frowns, and I wish I hadn't said anything. I hate when this girl frowns. "Eh, I slept in. I know, right? Off to a great start." She hunches over the engine, examining the hose I was touching earlier. "Uh, oh. See this right here?" I lean over to see where she's pointing. "This is a connecting rod, and it's supposed to be inside your motor, not sticking through the block."

"Um…" I say stupidly. "Okay."

I wonder if her legs are cold in that skirt. I think about warming them up.

 _Oh my god, shut up._

I am one with my endocrines.

She purses her summertime lips and nods. "Definitely going to have to be towed. This is major damage. You should let my dad take a look at this. He used to be a mechanic, knows all about these cars."

I don't miss the way she says _these_ cars. _These,_ meaning, old as fuck. "I don't know," I grimace, because the thought of meeting this girl's father under these circumstances seems cringe-worthy. How would she introduce me? As some stranger she saw on the highway, or as the boy she stayed out past curfew with last Friday? "Um…"

"It's cool, you can ride to school with me." She already has her cell phone out. "My dad has a tow chain, he can bring the car back to our place and take a look at it."

I shift where I stand, because I'm uncomfortable and I'm the most awkward person on the planet. "Bella, I don't want to make you late for school."

"Relax, we'll still make it to first period." She starts talking into the phone then, dismissing any more of my protests. After a moment of rapidly speaking to her father, she shuts the phone and slides it into the pocket of her hoodie. "Charlie's on his way. He said he's on the highway, so don't hold your breath."

I hold my breath anyway.


	8. March 19th, 2012 4:10 pm

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **March 19th, 2012**

 **4:10 p.m.**

Bella Swan is the smartest girl that I've ever met, but her father is maybe the most brilliant man I've ever had the privilege of interacting with. This guy knows every part to every model of car. He knows how to rebuild an engine out of practically nothing and he can install one in your shitty car in less than a week. He's also a walking Wikipedia page.

And he isn't even a mechanic, he's the chief of fucking police.

Charlie Swan is easily an intimidating six foot tall. His dark brown hair is long and pulled back into a braid behind his head, and his masculine voice burrows scary-deep octaves. He has several different arm tattoos, and one of the fattest titanium wedding bands I've ever seen in my life. He has a beard that's five inches too long, and eyes that match his daughter's.

If it weren't for this genius, I might not have ever met Brightside. I should be kissing the ground he walks on, but I choose to kiss his ass instead.

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" I ask, as I hand him the keys to my sun-spotted death-machine. "It's a lot of work."

My car, for lack of a better word, is _fucked._

Charlie is going to replace an engine that would normally cost over two grand to fix, and he's going to do it for me for less than five hundred. "Don't worry about it." Charlie waves a dismissive hand after he's inhaled one of his cigarettes. "It's no trouble at all."

"Dad usually picks up shit cars at the salvage yard to work on," Bella informs me around a straw she's been gnawing on for the last half-hour. "If he wasn't working on yours, he'd be rebuilding one of his own."

We're standing in the Swan residence's garage, under a too-bright overhead light that would normally sketch me out. Charlie is sitting on the hood of my car while he scrolls through his phone in search junkyards. My favorite person in the world is beside me, drinking a Coca-Cola Slurpee loudly, while she comments on her father's diagnostic and avoids making eye contact with me.

It's fine. I mean, we're in front of her dad. It'd be weird if she looked at me. Right? It's not like she hates me or anything, or else she wouldn't have helped me out in the first place.

"Oh shit, would you look at the time?" Bella points to her phone, and I furrow my brows while she leans into her father. "It's four- _twenty!_ "

Charlie laughs at his daughter, and they share some sort of unreadable disbelieving look. Brightside smirks, and Charlie shakes his head at his daughter. "You're not cute, Bella. Take your friend home, and don't talk like that around me."

I can't tell if Charlie is just saying that because I'm here, or if he really thinks his daughter isn't cute.

"What if Edward wants to stay for dinner?" she asks, sticking her face intrusively close to his. "Mom's bringing home chicken. What if that's his favorite, dad? Dad. Dad, what if he wants a wing? What if I want him to―"

Charlie raises a hand to cut her off. "I don't care what you do. Just leave me alone."

Brightside looks victorious. She snakes her hand down my arm to grab my hand and she pulls me towards the door, out of the garage. "You don't have to stay if you don't want." She looks back at me as we cross her yard. "But I'd like it if you did."

I don't respond, even though I want to tell her I'll never leave if she asks me to. I just keep my mouth closed as I follow her into the house. She leads me into a kitchen that's smells like wet paint and is colored a bright sunshine-yellow with sunflower-print wallpaper beneath the trim lining the middle-walls. I think I'd have a seizure if it didn't seem so fucking nice.

She tells me to sit, and I obediently drop down on an empty stool.

She clicks her tongue in her mouth, and I hear the mute tap-tap-tapping of her flats meeting the linoleum floor. "I couldn't get you to get a Slurpee with me, but I bet you like soda, right?"

I don't answer. I bite my lip and stare head-on, avoiding her gaze.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaims. "You really don't drink soda?"

I finally look up at her and crack a smile. She's standing by the fridge, one foot out, with her hand posed in her hip. "I like some sodas. Sprite is good."

"Ugh." She touches her stomach. "You're giving me a belly ache with that talk. What about tea, country boy?" She sways over to the cabinet to retrieve a glass. "You like sweet tea?"

"Um…" I nod, knowing she isn't going to give up. If there's one thing that I've learned about her in the last few hours, it's that Brightside is a people-pleaser. Until everyone else is comfortable and situated, _she_ can't be comfortable and situated. "Yeah."

She pours a glass of tea out on the kitchen table for me and smiles as though she's pleased with herself. "Good shit?"

I laugh at her, finding this girl so strange and amusing.

Most girls wouldn't do this. Most girls wouldn't treat the boy they just slept with like a welcomed house guest. They wouldn't offer him a glass of tea, and pretend like everything is fine. Most girls would find this awkward, and they probably wouldn't smile half as much as she does.

Bella Swan is not most girls.

"Um, yeah."

I'm more like most girls.

She nods carefully and walks backwards until she's rocking back against the kitchen counter. She sucks her bottom lip between teeth and shifts on her heels for a moment. "Um, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry that I didn't get the chance to say goodbye the other morning. My dad threatened to put out an APB on anybody who was at Jake Black's party."

I bark a laugh, and stare down at my shoes. My old Nikes are muddy-grimy and ripping at the ends. I feel so out of place, looking down at my crappy muck-caked shoes on this nice clean kitchen floor.

"I put my number in your iPod."

I keep my eyes trained on my dirty kicks as I nod. "Yeah, I know."

"You didn't use it." I look up finally, and see the somber look on Brightside's face. She has her jaw slightly slacked, her eyes narrowed, her cheeks almost pale. She shakes her head when she catches me looking at her. "I mean, you didn't have to―"

"I wanted to," I interrupt, standing. I don't know why I'm standing, but I am. "Really, I tried to, I just don't have a phone."

Her mouth opens wider in realization. "Oh! _Oh."_ She nods, like she's agreeing with me. _"_ Oh-kay."

There are some things I'm too stupid to do. Being smart is one of them.

I don't know if Bella Swan was a virgin before she met me, or if she's ever even been kissed before. I don't know if she regrets having sex with me, and I don't know if she's just pretending to be friends with me because that's the kind of incredible person she is. I don't know if we were safe that night, or if Bella's just on birth control and she hasn't said anything about it.

These things are important, and I know that I need to ask her.

"Um." I lick my lips and blow out a frustrated breath. I need to do this; just say it. "Are you…"

"I'm on the pill," she blurts out. I look up at her with furrowed brows, confused by her sudden outburst. Am I that fucking transparent?

"The pill?" I ask, like the dumbass I am.

She has her arms crossed over her chest, her face beet-red. She nods, chewing on her bottom lip. "Uh, yeah. And I'm not exactly freaking out or anything, because, you know, I, like, just had my period, and girls aren't really fertile until later on."

"Uh." I rub my eyes, trying to understand what the fuck is happening right now. My mind is reeling, and I'm developing a serious fucking headache. "So, you're … um?"

"Really, I promise you don't have to worry about diseases or anything either." She stands up straighter then, no longer needing the counter for support. "I'm clean. One hundred percent. Are you … clean?"

She says it all so fast that it takes me more than half a minute to process it all. "Um, I'm clean. I swear, but don't tell me not to worry about it." I drop my gaze back down to the floor. "I was worried about you, like I wondered if that was, um …"

"I wasn't a virgin." She laughs kind of, and I look back up. "I mean, I was. But I wasn't one last week."

I don't really feel any better, but I kind of do. I feel pissed and grateful at the same time, which is one cocktail of emotions I hope I never have again. Mostly, I hope whoever took her virginity didn't go about treating her like I did.

This girl is making me into a better boy, and she has no idea.

"Yeah …" That's all I can really say.

"So, I guess you really need a ride to school from now on, huh?" She starts picking at the end of that damn hoodie. "I'm sure Emmett and Rose like to keep their passengers to a minimum."

I don't know what she's getting at, but I sort of like the direction she's headed in.

"I could, you know, pick you up and stuff." She shrugs, looking up at me through her bangs.

There's so much about last weekend, and tonight, and last night that I don't know about. I don't know what I'm doing with my life or who I am, and I don't know much about my own generation, even.

I am simple. Boring. And I always feel like I'm lost.

I don't know who I want to be when I grow up, or if I even really want to go to college after high school because my grades are terrible and I suck at life. Algebra confuses me, but the opposite sex does maybe even more. I don't really know how to flirt with a girl, and I'm pretty much the worst conversationalist on this planet.

I have one brother, and he knows everything about me. He knows about the three girls I've slept with, and he knows that I don't really have any regrets. Except for one, maybe.

Now, I'm not so sure that I do have any regrets. All of my problems seem simple, like the answer is right in front of me.

I look up to Brightside, and smile like it's the easiest thing in the world.

"Okay."


	9. April 16th, 2012 3:32 pm

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **April 16th, 2012**

 **3:32 p.m.**

"You know, you don't have to be so sad." Bella is driving down highway B with a bag of sour gummy worms between her legs. She has one piece of candy sticking from her lips that she's been chewing on for the last ten minutes, as if she forgot how to eat like a normal person.

She's not normal, but that doesn't make any difference to me.

I don't understand how Brightside can smile all the time, but her light is addicting. She's silly and ridiculous, and sometimes she's flat out fucking crazy.

Sometimes she calls my brother in the middle of the night and makes him give me the phone. Sometimes she just talks, and I just listen. Sometimes she trusts me with a piece of her that others don't get, like her insecurities and her fears.

I know a lot about this girl. I know that her favorite color is green, and she listens to _Mumford & Sons_ when she wants to cry. Her mom thinks she's Stevie Nicks, and her dad has to cover his arm tattoos because people think he's in a biker gang instead of a cop.

She smells like lavender and vanilla because her mom only buys some organic body wash. She says everything else is bad for her sensitive skin—which is also why she uses unscented detergent.

Sometimes she sits with me at lunch, but people are constantly battling for her attention.

Bella Swan is like a drug to this town. She came in and she wrecked all of us. She stole our hearts with her beaming smile, and she killed us all with her laugh. She's magnetic and mellifluous, the reviving ray of light we've all been waiting for. Everybody wants her, wants to be by her side, wants to steal her and never let go.

I know it's selfish, but _fuck_ everyone else.

"Who said I was sad?"

"No one _has_ to tell me." She sets a gummy worm on leg. It's half blue, half yellow. "I can feel it."

This girl makes my day every day, so maybe I am a little sad. I get my car back tomorrow, and I kind of wish Charlie had another excuse to keep it longer. I wish her butch-cop-dad wasn't so likeable, so that I could feel angry at him for taking away my reason for seeing Brightside every morning.

Bella even drove me through my paper route. We'd blast music and snack on the crap she calls breakfast: little Debbie's and Sunny D. Even if I probably-most-likely have diabetes now, it was kind of worth it.

So yeah, I look sad and shit.

I feel like I'm losing her. Not only do I think about kissing her and stuff, but she's kind of my new best friend.

"You can't feel other people's sadness," I tell her.

She sighs through her nose, peeping over at me out of the corner of her eye. "Yes, you can. Especially when it's someone you care about. We're practically one person, Edward."

"You sound crazy," I lie.

"If I sound crazy, so do you. We're one and the same." She's quiet all of three seconds. "Jake Black talked to me today."

I look up from my notebook and furrow my eyebrows at the girl who always leaves her food in strange places for me to find. Yesterday, it was a jolly rancher in my backpack. Today, it's the gummy worm on my leg. I throw the gummy worm in my mouth and start to chew. "Okay …?"

"Are you drawing a picture?" she asks instead, pointing to my notebook. Her eyes switch rapidly between the road and my notebook. "Whoa, is that a freakin' angel?"

I groan, slamming my notebook closed.

"You draw angels? They're, like, _badass_ , Edward," she says eagerly, smiling over at me. "Show me! You've got skills, bro. I mean, really … fucking artist. You should see my brother's artwork. In Chicago, he used to do graffiti. I bet you two could create some monumental masterpiece together. I don't know art, but I think you've got it down."

I try not to frown at the way she says 'bro', because this is the same girl that I think about kissing all the time. I don't want to be her bro.

"Jake Black?" I hedge instead, not in the mood to discuss my so-called skills.

"Oh, right." She sucks the rest of the sour-sweet candy into her mouth and nods. "Well, anyway, while you were busy drawing badass bitches with wings, Jake stopped me at lunch. He asked me to freakin' prom."

" _What?"_ I don't mean to say it like I do. It sounds harsher than I intend it to. More defensive. More jealous. More bitchy. "Prom?" I realize how much of a drama queen I sound like, but I don't care. "I mean … are you going?"

She glances at me and furrows her brows. "I mean… of _course_." She shrugs her shoulders animatedly. "You know how much a _fan_ I am of country music."

I blanch, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Well." She sits up straighter, flickering her eyes from me to the road. "Are you taking anybody to prom?" She sees me glaring, and turns her eyes back to the road. "I mean, I know there's got to be someone at that school worth dancing over. Come on, paper boy. Who do you have a crush on?"

I sigh, relaxing back in my chair. "You really want to know?"

"Tell me, Edward." She looks over at me with a smile. "Come on, country boy. Tell me. Who stole your heart?"

"The truth?" I ask, unable to fathom what I'm doing or what I'm even thinking about saying.

My heart is racing, I can feel it pounding in my throat. My palms are sweaty, and my legs are shaky. I don't know what's happening to me, but I know that I want to tell this girl she has the prettiest smile I've ever seen, and that I can't get her fucking laugh out of my head. I want to tell her I don't ever want to feel like I'm going to lose her, because she's my drug.

Bella looks over at me and nods.

I take a shaky breath. "You." I stare down at my shoes, but look up before I continue. _Man up._ "I just … I mean, I'd want to take you to prom. If I had to―no, not if I had to … I mean …" _I am fucking this up. So. Bad. "_ I hate country music, but I'd probably hate it a little less if you were there with me."

It's not even a fraction of what I mean to say.

Emmett's voice rings inside my head: " _Just say some sweet shit. Girls love sweet shit. Tell her what makes her different than other bitches."_

 _Close enough._

Bella's smile isn't one I've seen before. She's not Brightside-happy for a moment, she's Bashful. Her mouth falls open, and her cheeks tinge red-pink. She tries to fight the curl of her lips, but it's inevitable.

And maybe the fact that I made her smile like that is why I have to fight one too.

After an agonizing moment, she bites her lip and looks over at me. Warm brown eyes are kind and open, and for a moment I stop hearing the music on the radio. "You aren't kidding?"

I shake my head, watching her carefully.

 _Please don't run away._

"Okay." Her voice is smaller than usual, more feminine. Shy, and sweet. She looks over at me again, and she's still fighting a smile I wish she wouldn't. "So … are we gonna, like, crash the prom or something then?"

I think about it for a moment, and realized how utterly ridiculous it is to seem reluctant about going to the prom with Bella. I'd go to a fucking _Nickelback_ concert for this girl. There isn't much I wouldn't do for her.

That, and, what the fuck else was I going to be doing?

I nod. "Yeah, I guess. So will you …?"

She looks over at me and pretends like she has no idea what I'm talking about. Her eyebrows arch, lips curve down into a frown.

She's a fucking comedian.

"Will I what?" she asks, fighting a smile.

I groan through my nose. "Will you go to prom with me?"

Bella looks over at me, then back to the road. She puts a hand over her heart and laughs out in exasperated relief. "Gosh, Edward," she rasps. "I thought you'd never ask. Of course I'll be your date. I'd love to."

I think I love her.


	10. April 22nd, 2012 1:22 pm

**This chapter was beta'd by Fran.**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **April 22nd, 2012**

 **1:22 p.m.**

"I don't get it." Emmett shakes his head, laughing to himself. "I don't understand you, man. You've already slipped her the D. Why don't you just do it?"

I want to tell him. I do. But I don't think he'd get it.

"I don't know." I shrug. "It's … it's just the principle. You know?"

"Dude." Emmett drops the paintbrush in his hand, stepping away from the garage. "You don't know shit about a principle. And if you're trying to romance her up, it's moot. That girl looks at you like she's over the moon. Stars in her eyes and shit."

I smirk to myself, not really knowing how to tell Emmett my logic.

Bella makes me nervous. She inadvertently makes me question myself, makes me question my morals and my conduct. I think there's something about the good in people that makes us subconsciously strive to do better.

Be better.

I am simple, boring.

But maybe I can be more.

"I, for one, think Edward is being smart." Rosalie sits crisscross on the sidewalk by our feet. She has a joint between her paint-streaked fingers, and a pair of blue sunglasses pushed high on her nose. "He thinks he made a mistake."

We're at Mrs. Banner's house because she's paying us to paint her garage, only Rosalie isn't really supposed to be here. She's definitely not supposed to have that joint either, but my brother drags Rose wherever he goes. I should find it annoying, but right now **,** I kind of like Rosalie better than I like my own brother.

"Bella is a good girl. He doesn't want to fuck up whatever it is they have," Peanut Gallery continues on, shrugging her shoulders. "Just because they had sex already doesn't mean they should rush it. He'll kiss her when it's right."

Emmett widens his arms at his girlfriend, his face, incredulous. "Who said anything about rushing? It's kissing. He already fuc―"

"They're sixteen, Emmett!" she yells over him. "We were sixteen once."

"Like a day ago," I mutter.

"You were terrified to kiss me," Rosalie tells Emmett, stubbing the joint out by her feet. "Your hands shook, you idiot."

"My hands did not shake." He side-eyes me to gauge my reaction. He sees me watching their exchange and he nods to Rose, squaring his shoulders defensively. "I was showing you my spirit fingers."

She laughs at him, shaking her head. "I love you."

Emmett arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought I was an idiot?"

She springs to her feet, jumping up to kiss Emmett on the cheek. "Sometimes, yeah. But you're _my_ idiot."

I roll my eyes, turning back to the garage. I try to focus on the brush strokes, but my concentration is always slipping over this girl.

I know it's not healthy, but maybe she is better for me. Since we started talking, my math grade went from a C- to a B-, and my attendance is still a whopping ninety percent. I don't spend Friday evening through Sunday morning drinking, and I don't really dwell on small things such as country music as much. Still, she's always there, at the back of my mind.

I want to kiss Bella—no, I want to do a whole lot more than kiss her. Who wouldn't? But this is bigger than kissing. It's bigger than working up the courage to show her affection; this is the new girl who calls me in the middle of the night to make me laugh. This is New Beginnings. She's unusual, silly-happy, loveable, and so much more innocent than people give her credit for.

I've never had a problem with getting what I want. I've never been afraid to kiss a girl, not like this; the palm-sweating, spirit-fingers kind of afraid. But I'm _terrified_ to kiss her.

I am simple, but I am negative.

I'm a lurker in the dark.

My mind goes to scary places sometimes, and I doubt myself too often. I don't think I'm smart enough for college, and I don't think I'm good enough for this girl, but I can try to be. I'm falling for a girl who's a lover of the light.

My dad once told me that good things come to those who wait, but better things come to those who are patient. I never _actually_ understood the difference between the two.

Maybe patience is different, though.

Maybe patience is slower; it's taking the time to understand something, not idly standing by for it. Maybe patience is diligence and caution. It's _better_ than waiting. It's knowing what you're waiting for, and knowing what you have to lose.

"Just give it time, Edward." I look over my shoulder to see Rose smiling at me. "You'll know when, just make sure you're sober. She's not going anywhere."

I can do this.

I can have patience.


	11. May 3rd, 2012 10:10 am

**A/N: Fran helped me with this again. She's incredibly helpful :)**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **May 3rd, 2012**

 **10:10 a.m.**

Logically, I know there's no reason to panic … not really. I saw Bella's brother this morning, so she's obviously not dying or anything. I know that if she were really sick she would've sent Jasper to tell me, or maybe she would've called Emmett's phone.

On the other hand, maybe she wouldn't, because she doesn't like people to worry about her.

 _I have nothing to panic over_ , I think to myself.

 _I have nothing to worry about_ , but I feel as if I'm dying inside.

Emmett and Rose told me I'm worrying over nothing, but Brightside isn't here and my anxiety level is high. I didn't see her this morning when school started, but I guess I figured she was running late again. She oversleeps a lot, so it really wasn't any surprise when she didn't show up to school on time.

But it's ten, the second bell just sounded, and Bella still hasn't come to her locker. She's not here, being her regular ten-o'clock-chipper-smiley-dorky self.

I'm panicking.

I imagine that this is what it feels like for drug addicts when they suffer from withdrawals.

My mind is racing with a million worst-case scenarios.

What if she's dead?

What if she got into an accident on the way to school?

What if she spilled her Sunny D and swerved into the left lane, like she did the last time, only there was a Mack Truck there to swallow her car?

 _Not possible, Cullen,_ I tell myself. _Mack's don't go down Highway B._

My thoughts have been this way most of this morning. I've been able to keep my impending panic attack at bay until now.

Because even when she's running late, she's always at this stupid locker by ten-ten.

I really wish I had just bought a fucking phone. It's not as if I don't make enough to pay the bill, I'm just filled with reasons _not_ to do things when I should be doing them. I'm just a dumbass like that. I know I need a phone, but I never actually went and fucking got one. Maybe if I had one, I would've known earlier that she wasn't going to show up for school.

 _I need to know where she is._

So I set out to find Jasper.

* * *

 **10:18 a.m.**

It's isn't hard to find her brother. He's right where Bella said he'd be about this time of day.

I find Jasper Swan outside, leaning against the east side of the building with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a cell phone in his hands. His fingers move rapidly over his iPhone as he composes a text to someone, and he doesn't look up when the door closes behind me. He doesn't seem to notice I'm there, so I take a few steps toward him.

"Bella isn't at school today," he says without looking up from his phone. "Sorry, dude."

Captain fucking obvious here.

I shift. "Yeah, I realize that. Is she sick?"

He shrugs, looking up from his phone at me. "I don't know. She was in the bathroom all morning so I couldn't tell you."

I don't know if I should feel relieved, but this doesn't help my nagging anxiety in the slightest. I just talked to Bella last night. She sounded fine. She didn't sound sick or anything.

"You should go," he tells me. "I can text her if you want. Find out if she's okay."

That isn't going to be enough.

So I say, "Is she home right now?"

* * *

 **10:44 a.m.**

"I wish you would've called." Renee Swan has her foot wedged between the doorjamb and screen door as she speaks to me. "Bella isn't feeling well today. She didn't text you?"

"I don't have a phone." I try to see over her, into the house. "What do you mean she isn't feeling well?"

"I think it's just girl stuff." She smiles at me, winking. "But my daughter hardly ever gives me the time of day anymore. She doesn't think she needs my help, I guess, so I could just be making assumptions."

 _I feel stupid._

She laughs this lighthearted, symphonic, giggle.

I think Bella gets her laugh from her mom.

"She actually seems to be doing a little better now. Do you want to go up and see if she intends to go to school today?"

I furrow my brows at her, wondering if she's trying to get me killed.

"Chief's not home, bud," she says, opening the door wider for me and giving me a wide enough berth to pass her. "You skipped class just to see if she's all right?"

I don't know how to answer, so I just shrug as she leads me towards the stairs. She stops walking and points up. "First door on the right. It's probably closed, but you'll figure out which one is hers."

I thank her and take the stairs two at a time.

The hallway is dark, but I can easily make out which room is hers. On her bedroom door, there's a bulletin board with sticky notes and pictures all over its surface. There's one of Brightside when she was a baby, and one more with her brother making faces at the camera.

I knock on the door three times, the first two softer than the last. She yells for me to come in.

I open the door and scan my eyes over a bright blue room. I spot Brightside buried beneath a pile of pink and purple blankets. "Mom, I'm fine." Her voice sounds muffled, buried beneath the covers. "Stop trying to get me to eat lettuce soup."

My anxiety dissipates in an instant.

I take a few steps inside until I'm in front of her bed.

"But I made it just for you, dear." I make a poor, high-pitched, impression of Renee's voice and try not to laugh.

A stack of blankets wafts through the air as Bella shoots up from the bed. Her eyes, which look tired from sleep and have mascara smudged beneath them, go wide with shock. Her face breaks out into one of the most extensive, breathtaking kind of smile I've seen on her.

"Edward!"

"Good morning to you, too." I laugh as she throws the covers off her legs and hops off the bed in a sylphlike movement. She throws her arms around me and crushes her chest to mine. "Are you alright?"

"I'm good." She sighs on my shoulder. "I'm fine now."

"You sure?" I pull away but keep my hands planted on her soft forearms. "I just came here to check on you."

"You didn't have to do that." She's still sporting that lambent smile, her brown eyes gleaming. "You could have just called from school or something."

 _But if you were dying, you would have lied to me anyway._

I have no regrets.

"Are you feeling, um … better?" I question, not knowing how to ask if she needs anything especially since I know she's having 'girl problems'. I'm awkward enough as it is, but I'd buy tampons for this girl. "Do you, like … need anything?"

She shakes her head, walking over to her dresser. "I'm fine now, I swear. I thought I had a stomach bug or something, but I feel better now. Good. I think it was just something my mom made."

"Yeah," I agree, like the asshole I am. "No offense to Renee, but … what the fuck is lettuce soup? Is she _trying_ to kill you?"

She laughs while she digs through her drawers for an outfit to wear. "It's actually not that bad. I've had worse."

I find that hard to believe.

"I'll be right back," she says, disappearing through the doorway with a pile of clothes draped over her arm. "Stay here."

 _Like I'd go anywhere else_.

I find myself drifting over to her dresser and looking at her pictures. Brightside has a lot of friends, which isn't the least bit surprising. There are probably fifteen pictures wedged along the crack between the frame and her dresser mirror alone. One girl is a repeat in all of them, a short girl with dark hair who always seems to be the one making her smile.

"That's Jasper's girlfriend," Bella says from behind me. "She's amazing."

I turn around and blanch when I see her just inches away from me, her face dangerously close to mine.

"Sorry." She laughs, stepping back a foot. I see she's already fully dressed in a pair of jeans, some flip-flops, and a hoodie. She has her hair tied up in a messy bun, and the streaks of makeup that were beneath her eyes are gone. I can smell some strange, pungent, cinnamon smell, and I think it's Brightside's toothpaste. I look at her lips, and I have to force myself to look away.

 _Patience._

"Thanks for checking up on me ..." Her soft voice drops to a whisper, her eyes flickering over my face. "You didn't have to do that. No one I know would have done that for me, Edward."

"I had to be sure," I admit, looking between her and the floor. Finally, I settle my eyes on her face and shrug. "I couldn't stand not knowing if you were all right, Bella. It was driving me crazy. I thought I was losing my mind without you. I came up with a million different scenarios and I hate myself for not getting a phone. I'm going to get one, I swear. But I think I'd probably still be here even if I had one, because Jasper offered to text you and I thought that was bullshit. I had to see you in person just to know that you were okay, even though I knew you weren't dead. I kind of lost it the minute I realized you weren't at school."

I blow out a huge gust of air.

I never knew I was capable of saying so much, so fast.

Her eyes grow soft, her mouth falling open. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and nods. Her eyes get a little glossy, and I'm not really sure, but I think she's crying.

"You did?" Her voice cracks, and she smiles brighter than the sun.

I want to tell her that we should go, but I feel stuck looking at her smile. I feel compelled to do something, but I think it could just be my hormones going into overdrive after my panic attack.

Bella reverses the distance she backed away a few minute ago, and something inside snaps. It's almost like a burden, breaking free.

Suddenly, my arms and legs feel light. My mind goes blank, and all I see is warm brown before my feet carry me closer to her. I can't feel anything else at this moment until I close my eyes, tangle my fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck, and push my lips against hers.

I freeze.

 _Oh fuck._

I regret my decision for all of three seconds, until Brightside throws her arms around my neck, pushes her chest against mine, and deepens the kiss.

I allow myself to enjoy this moment, when I find myself tasting cinnamon toothpaste and the naturally vanilla-sweet flavor of Bella's lips combined.

It feels like a weight's been lifted from my chest.

Nothing about this is awkward. Bella doesn't even have to laugh to make it feel right, she just kisses me back like she means it. The better-than-good-thing that I've been patiently waiting for has herself wrapped around me, and I don't have any doubts. I find it hard to believe that I ever did.

I unfreeze, and I kiss her back.

It's sloppy

Kind of wet

Pretty wet.

She makes this throaty moan and I wrap my left arm around her back. We bump each other's teeth. Brightside laughs into my mouth. I do too.

"Mhm." Someone clears their throat behind us, and I freeze back up again.

Bella laughs against my lips, and I hear her mom, too. She pulls away, and I look to the door. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but maybe people who are sick shouldn't be swapping spit, young lady. Go to school. Now."

I've never seen a blush so red before. "Yes, Mom."

I don't know if there's ever a right time to kiss a girl you can't stop thinking about. Even though Bella's kind of sick, and we're skipping school, and we were just busted by her mom; it's kind of worth it.

It's worth being patient.

It's worth panicking over, and feeling humiliated over.

It's worth every awkward moment or phrase.

She's worth it.

Brightside.


	12. May 4th, 2012 10:20 pm

**I own nothing.**

 **May 4th, 2012**

 **10:20 p.m.**

It's Friday night, and I'm not even drunk. I pretty much forgot all about Jake Black's party tonight when Bella walked up to my locker this morning, kissed me, and slipped one of her cherry Starbursts into my back pocket for me to find later.

I don't know how I spent my weekends before, but I can't imagine them not being like this. I can't picture a world where this doesn't exist for me. I don't know much about bliss, but I imagine that it's something like this:

Brightside and I, alone. In my house. In my room. On my bed. _Sober_.

This is still crazy to me, because two months ago, if you told me I'd have a girl that I was crazy about in my bed, kissing her into a frenzy, I would have laughed in your face. But a month ago, girls were nothing but pretty voices, and I didn't see much in life outside of the dull contours of my own mind.

I lived in a shitty town, filled with shitty music and even shittier people who I had no intent on ever interacting with.

And then this girl with a magnetic smile asked if she could sit with me, and I shared my headphones with her. I made her laugh, and then I slept with her hours later. Days later, my car broke down, and she drove me around for a month, became my best friend. Yesterday she kissed me, and now here we are … again.

Brightside has one hand wrapped tightly in my hair, and the other slipped beneath my shirt. I can feel the soft pinch of her trimmed fingernails gliding against my back while I try to focus on kissing this girl crazy.

We've been here before, but this is new.

This is so new, and I couldn't place my finger on the feelings coursing through me if I tried.

This is different. It's better-different.

This time, I know her name; her full name. I know what her favorite foods are, and what makes her cry. I know enough about this girl for this to be okay.

This is right. It's better than okay.

We're two kids who're spinning out of control, and it doesn't even feel all that dizzying.

We're clawing at each other's clothes and pawing at each other's flesh. We're taking rapid breaths between kisses and I keep forgetting why it's better to be patient. Brightside's vanilla and cinnamon lips are all over me, and they're making me forget about everything else that matters.

I am drunk, though. Sort of. I've lost myself somewhere between alabaster thighs and delectable lips.

That, and Brightside won't stop saying absurd things.

Like: "I want to watch you wash your hair."

And: "You smell like sunshine, boy. Can I use your body soap sometime?"

And: "Can I lick your Adam's apple? It looks good. Just a taste."

The last one almost makes me fall on top her; I'm laughing so hard that I can't hold myself up. She makes me chuckle until my muscles are weak while she runs her fingers through my hair and shakes with her own laugh. "I'm serious, Edward. It's majestic. Girls want to kiss the fuck out of this neck."

Sometimes I think she says this shit just for the sake of hearing my laugh.

She threads her fingers through my hair and I lower my face back down to hers. I kiss her slower this time, but she doesn't want that. She tosses her legs over my hips and kisses me back just as hard. I groan and she giggles.

We're pushing hips and licking lips.

We're bumping noses and smashing teeth because we're impatient insatiable teenagers.

Brightside tells me to feel her up.

It's kind of the best thing I've ever done.

My hands slide further up her shirt and ghost beneath her bra. Her boobs feel amazing; fit perfectly in my hands. I'm thinking of a thousand things that I could do with her huge boobs that she probably wouldn't find sexy at all.

"Edward." My name is in the form of a moan, a soft sigh leaving her kissed-swollen lips. "More, please."

Over the soft sound of music playing in the background, I register the muffled sound of a car door slamming closed. I immediately remove my hands, bolt up and shuffle away from Bella.

"What is it?" she asks, oblivious to my internal crises as she sits up to adjust her bra and T-shirt.

I open my mouth to tell her, but it's too late. The front door opens, and I hear the clanking sound of a heavy set of keys landing on the coffee table.

I've never had a girl here before. I mean, not that my mom knows about, anyway. She doesn't know about Bella, and I don't know how she'll react to Bella being here because I rarely have people over, period. The only guest we ever have is Rose, who comes and goes as she pleases, and my mother has little respect for.

I don't want my mom to think of Bella as some girl I was being sneaky with in my bedroom; I want her to think of Bella as Brightside.

"It's my mom," I tell her, trying to keep my tone leveled and casual.

Bella looks horrified.

Emmett and Rose are at Jake's, and my mom was supposed to be gone for the night, at work.

"Don't freak out," I grab my backpack from the floor and toss it on the bed. "We weren't doing anything wrong. She won't be mad that you're here, just act casual."

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Bella picks a book from my bag and flips to a random page. I sit back down with her and pull out another prop; a notebook that's been sitting in my bag all year without a single note in it. Bella frowns.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"What if she doesn't like me?" she whispers, looking between the door and me.

I want to tell her that she has nothing to worry about; that my mom will love her.

But I don't know if she's sober, or if she'll like Bella, or if she'll even pretend like she does if she doesn't. I have no clue how any of this will pan out because the woman who put me on this earth is unpredictable.

She doesn't even knock before she opens the door; it just swings open before I can think about reassuring Bella. "It's sixty degrees outside, why do we have the air-condit―" She stops short upon seeing Bella on my bed.

I think maybe Mom doesn't buy our charade the moment she sees me shifting uncomfortably with a clearly unused book in my lap.

"Mom, this is Bella." I clear my throat because apparently there's a bug lodged in it. "Bella, this is my mom, Esme."

Mom switches her eyes back and forth from the girl sitting on my bed to me a few times before she settles her gaze back on Bella. Her expression is hardly readable; not unpleasant but clearly surprised.

She pushes herself away from the doorframe and walks towards Bella with steady, purposeful steps that tell me she's sober.

"You can call me Es." Mom smiles, and I exhale a breath that I didn't realize I was holding.

Bella's smile is genuine as she hops up from the bed we were just making out on and shakes her hand with the same one that was all over me moments earlier.

I mentally palm my face.

"It's nice to meet you, Es," Bella says, patting my mom's shoulder like they're old amigos. "You have an awesome home, by the way. I like all of your cuckoo clocks. And your lipstick is pretty."

Bella is nervous-ranting, but it doesn't matter. I don't think I've ever seen my mom smile so wide before.

"Thank you, Bella. The lipstick is from Wal-Mart, and the cuckoo clocks were my husband's." My mom looks to me, and her smile doesn't falter. "Studying on a Friday night?" she asks me with an amused eyebrow raised. "Keep this door open. Understand?"

I nod.

Mom backs out of the room with a smile glued to her face, and Bella sighs out a breath of relief when she's sure she's gone. "Do you think she likes me?"

I look at her like she's crazy.

"Are you kidding me?"

She bites her lip and nods. "I don't like it when people don't like me. And if your mom doesn't like me―"

"Bella, shut up. I haven't seen my mom smile like that in forever. She loves you."

She doesn't argue with me anymore after that, but she does look a little smug.

I can't help but smile, either.

Because my mom knows Bella, and I'm pretty sure that she fell in love with her at first sight. Everybody has fallen head over heels in love with this girl, and yet, she still chooses to spend her weekends with me. _Me_.

It's like she came into my life strictly for the purpose of reconstructing my world. She knocked my walls down, and she forced me to see why it's important to let the light in.

And maybe I'm not the same.

Maybe I'm different now.

Maybe this is living.

Maybe it's finally understanding all that you've got to lose, and it's never taking a single moment for granted, like Bella does. I haven't lived a single moment in boredom since I met her, at least until I thought I lost her.

And it's all because of that fucking smile.


	13. May 11th, 2012 7:45 pm

**A/N: Thank you Frannie and Fyrebyrd for your edits, and all you lovely readers :) You're amazing.**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **May 11th, 2012**

 **7:45 p.m.**

Muggy spring air permeates the sweet scent of dewy grass, barbecue, funnel cakes, and beer. The only two stadium lights our school can afford illuminate the field, but the sun is only beginning to set. An orange-yellow hue spreads across the horizon, and I watch the game with eyes shielded beneath a pair of dark blue sunglasses.

Emmett complains about his cleats getting stuck in the mud, but Coach Webber doesn't care. He wants to finish this game, and he's done with my brother's shit because he plays baseball how five-year-olds play Candyland.

He says, "This isn't fair."

And, "This is some fucking bullshit right here."

And, "What? No, that wasn't an out; that's cheating."

My brother is an idiot and a shitty teammate, but he can play ball better than anyone else in this town. That is the _only_ reason he hasn't gotten kicked off the team because I'm pretty sure he's already broken all of the rules.

Digging my hand into the pocket of my hoodie to retrieve my new cellphone, I roll my eyes at Emmett as I enter the unlock code to check my messages.

Rosalie claims my iPhone is "Bellafied". I'd argue, but this thing has my girl's name written all over it. The memory card is already filled with songs, the phonebook stocked with the contact information of almost every food joint within twenty miles of this town, and there's a picture of Brightside's earbuds on my bed, spread out to make a heart shape, as my home screen.

I told her I didn't want a heart on my phone, but she said I'll get over it because I love her, and I couldn't argue.

"Where's Sunshine?" Emmett shouts over the chattering crowd sitting on the bleachers behind us. "She buying rain-resistant boots for the prom or something?"

"She'll be here later," I tell him, shooting Jake Black a glare when I catch him looking back at me. It's the kind of look that tells him: _mind your own fucking business._ He turns back to Coach Webber, pretending like he wasn't being nosy and trying to find out my girlfriend's location.

I avert my gaze back to Emmett. "She should call soon."

Turning his back to me, he nods and starts scraping the caked mud from his cleats using a twig he found in the grass. "Cool."

Around noon, Bella's mom dragged her out of town for a doctor's appointment. She couldn't tell me what it's about because she doesn't know herself. Apparently Renee is overreacting about Bella getting sick a few times last week, but Bella thinks it's the food here. She's been eating Whole Foods Market food since she was six, but we don't have organic food stores like they do in Chicago.

I'm with her mom on this; she needs to figure out what's wrong. I doubt it's the food because Brightside eats candy like it's her dependency. Unless she's got diabetes, which ... there's a possibility.

 _Oh God._

Girl drives me crazy with worry.

It's hard to give no fucks these days when all I can give are worst-case scenarios.

"She's okay." Rosalie is seated beside me with a half-eaten bag of popcorn in her hand.

My brother's girlfriend smells like weed and orchids, but the smell is too strong and pungent; as if she doused herself in perfume. Bringing her legs up to fold them crisscross in front of her, Rosalie hides her half-lidded eyes beneath a pair of my brother's aviators and smiles up at me. She brings one hand up to pinch my cheek and smashes the bag of popcorn to her chest.

"You're a little love-bug worry wart, Eddie boy." She giggles, high as fuck. "You're so cute when you care, E."

I roll my eyes, ducking away from her. "Leave me alone."

Rose frowns, scooting unnaturally close to me. "You can't do this to me forever, Edward. I'm going to college soon, and you'll never see me again. I know you're going to miss me, so you'd better just tell me now that you love me. I know you love me. You're going to miss me, so stop pretending that you don't care."

I furrow my brows at her, leaning away from her as far as I can. I open my mouth, narrowing my eyes at her teasingly. "You know college?"

She pinches my forearm. "Ass."

I laugh anyway, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and placing a kiss in her hair. "I do love you. But you'd better come back to visit me, or I'll fucking kill you."

She smirks, sliding over the bench so she's back to her original spot. "Maybe."

Rose and Emmett have applied everywhere; they're determined to go to college together. Miraculously, they were both granted partial scholarships to the University of Arizona. While they weren't too impressed with Emmett's grades, they must've been pleased by his baseball stats. As for Rosalie, I'm pretty sure that she added herself as the founder of her fake photography club on her application and included a couple not-so-fake pictures of her hidden talent. She's going to the School of Art for a Bachelors in Studio Art program or something like that.

Although Rosalie is right, I'm a little sad; I'm kind of happy for them.

They deserve to get out.

My phone hums in my hands, and I look down to find it lighting up with my girl's number.

"See." Rose laughs. "She's alive."

I roll my eyes and tap my finger over the answer box before bringing the phone to my ear.

"Hey," I say, sighing out in relief.

 _"Hi._ " Her pretty voice is unusually quiet. _"I can see you."_

I stiffen my shoulders, scanning my eyes around the field. "You do?"

 _"I'm behind the benches, over by the concession stand."_

I switch my eyes over the crowded bleachers and furrow my brows. Well over half of this town is here, and it's making finding her difficult. I spot some red-brown curls, and I sigh out in relief when I spot her.

Across the field, Bella stands by the entrance of the park with her fingers hooked through holes in the chain-link fence. Dressed in a pair of dark jean shorts and a jacket of mine that I didn't know I was missing until now, she has the hood pulled over her head and her rich reddish hair tucked over her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

Shifting, she drops her head to stare down at her feet. She drags one purple flip-flop through the grass, drawing a semicircle around her other foot. Her lips are turned down into a dismal frown and her eyes emit an unusual somberness.

 _"I've been better."_

I can feel an inexplicable dull ache in my throat, like I've just been given the worst kind of news. I clear my throat against the stinging sensation and hunch forward to try and see her better. "Why?"

I hear the softest sound of a cry escaping her lips, one she tries to muffle with her hand. It's short-lived and suppressed, but it's unavoidable.

I can feel my heart bottoming out in my stomach.

"What's wrong? Don't cry, Brightside." It's my feeble attempt at trying to find out what's wrong with her.

 _"Don't call me that."_ She hiccups, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. " _Do I really look bright to you right now, Edward?"_

I swallow down the lump in my throat and nod. I hold her gaze and a small smile plays at her lips, and I revel in it. It's better. "You look beautiful to me."

Bella lifts a hand to her eyes, and I watch as she wipes the tears from her smiling cheeks. _"Don't make me smile right now. I don't deserve it."_

I can't take it anymore.

"What's wrong, Bella?"

She blows out a soft-sounding sigh, lifting her head up long enough to meet my eyes again. Jake Black passes, momentarily blocking her from my view, before my eyes settle on warm brown again.

 _"Can we go somewhere and talk?"_

I stare at the girl who gave me a beginning, and I begin to wonder if all of this is just some ephemeral dream.

I think I know.

I'm pretty sure that I know.

It's written all over her.

It's in the way her sigh trembles, and she doesn't want to look at me. It's how she asks me if we can talk instead of just telling me what's going on. It's the soft drop of her lips which seldom hold any frowns, and how inconsolable this moment truly seems. The sobriety in her words steals her eloquence in a way that lets me know what's happening before she even has a chance to tell me.

Of course I know.

Maybe my greatest memory is also my greatest mistake.

"Okay." I swallow down the thickest lump forming in my throat. "Yeah."

So I go to her.


	14. May 11th, 2012 11:00 pm

**A/N: Hi guys :) Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm currently on vacation, so I apologize for any delays in updates. Here's something angsty to go with your dinner.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

 **May 11th, 2012**

 **11:00 p.m.**

We're laying in my backyard.

My greatest mistake is looking up at the stars with one hand brushing through the grass and the other stroking over the slip of exposed skin below her shirt. Liquid diamond teardrops fall from the corner of her eyes, slide down her temple and disappear into her hairline.

There's a bitterness in my stomach that stings my tongue. I don't know where it comes from, just that it debilitates me. There's a stillness in the air which ensues a dull panic subdued by Bella's impassiveness, and maybe that's the only thing holding me to the earth right now.

My jaw begins to ache from the building pressure between my clenched teeth, and I can feel the sourness of suppressed tears spreading to my cheeks. Looking up at rare cloudless night sky and feeling soft winds brush against the hairs on my arm, I unlock my jaw and breathe through my mouth.

With a four leaf clover pinched between her thumb and forefinger and her left hand stroking over the place where life grows, Bella turns her head enough to look at me and blows a sigh through her lips.

"My mom doesn't want me to, but she told me it's my choice...it doesn't hurt. It's only a few minutes, and then that's it. It's over."

I don't dare try to move or speak. This hurts too fucking much.

Bella has always been on birth control. That night we met, she had took two missed days' worth: one for the move here from Chicago, and one for that Friday. After taking a shot of Jaeger, Bella lost Thursday, Friday, and Saturday down the toilet without her knowledge.

And then we made a life.

"Just like that," Bella says. Who she thinks she's talking to, I have not one fucking clue. This girl looks as confused and fucked up as I do.

I don't comment, because I don't have the slightest idea what to say.

 _Don't have my abortion?_

I don't fucking think so.

It doesn't matter what I say, this much I'm sure of... There's nothing I can take back or save, nothing I can say at this moment to take back what's happening.

This is irreversible.

This doesn't make any sense, and it makes total sense.

There's nothing I single-handedly can do about this because this is the ultimate motherfucking fuck-up. I didn't choose to get myself into this, and I don't get to choose a way out.

She holds the reigns for this decision, and I think she makes it worse for herself every time she touches her stomach. She doesn't even realize she's doing it.

 _This_ is a life that we made. Brightside and I.

So why does this feel so far from a new beginning?

I know.

"Yeah," my voice cracks, dry and sour.

Of course I know.

"I'm sorry," she says.

We're two kids who're crazy and unfit. Brightside can't have a baby. She's too young. She's too dependent and immature. She doesn't know the first thing about the life inside her, and neither do I.

"I'm so sorry."

She's doing this because it's the right thing to do.

I nod, looking up at the stars and trying to spot constellations over blurring images.

"Yeah. Me too."

So why does this feel so fucking wrong?

"Edward."

Life is harsh.

"It was my mistake."

Bliss isn't endless, light doesn't always have a way of shining in, and even beginnings have to come to an end. She doesn't have to tell me, I know. I can feel it.

"Edward," her voice is pretty, soft, and just as inviting as it was the first time I heard it. Only now, I don't want to look up.

This doesn't have some happily ever after, we're sixteen.

I crane my neck and find the four-leaf clover she was twirling around her fingers moments ago perched on my shoulder while my eyes struggle to meet hers.

I don't need to try much longer because Bella wraps herself around me quicker than she did the first time I thought I was going to lose her. She wraps her hands in my hair and presses her lips against mine.

"Kiss me."

Her demand isn't ignored, because there's nothing much else I can do. She's taking from touches all that she can and giving kisses all she has to give, allowing me no time to respond and no space to reciprocate. I can't move, because she's trying to lose herself in me when I'm already lost so deep in my head.

 _There is no right option; they're all fucking wrong._

"Please," she reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it off.

Her bra is purple, with two black bows on it. I don't say anything this time.

I don't say much at all. Not when she takes her shorts off and slips her hand over mine. Not when I feel her tears sliding down my throat when she presses kisses along my collarbone. Not even when she says she's sorry again, and I can't respond because this hurts too much and feels too good for words.

I let her move over me as I place my hands in her hair and I try to get out of my own head.

I'm not here, in the moment. But neither is she.

Our bodies respond naturally to each other's touch, but our minds are elsewhere at this moment.

Nothing about this is patient, but I really don't see the value in trying.

Bella doesn't either.

We don't take our time, and we don't merely take as much from each other as we did the first time we made this mistake.

She lowers herself on me, and we both make involuntary sounds and movements.

It's hard.

Dirty, because we're lying in the fucking grass.

It's crazy, the worst and best thing.

It's desperate and fast, disgraceful and disgusting.

I keep thinking about new life.

I keep thinking about mistakes, and not knowing any other way out of this.

"Edward," my name is a desperate cry on her lips.

Bella's moan pulls me back.

For a second, I push it all out of my head. I don't think about life and new beginnings, mistakes and helplessness, or patience. There's a moment of blank space, an undisturbed void that allows me to just feel.

It's not merely enough, but it's just the slip of concentration I need to let go.

Bella's head falls against my chest and I pay attention to the rise and fall of her back as she breathes unevenly against me.

I finally look at her face, and it's just how I imagined. Tear-stained cheeks, lifeless eyes, lips parted and pouted in irremediable despair.

And I've never felt so fucking useless.

So I put her clothes back on and I kiss her cheeks. I take her hand and I lead her back into my room. Bella puts a _Grouplove_ CD in and we listen to a happy song that isn't really happy. We crawl into my bed and I pick grass and clovers out of her hair, and she stops crying long enough to fall asleep. Her phone stays silent, and so do I.

I want to scream.

What the fuck do I do now?

Bella acts like this is simple. Girls have abortions all the time.

So why does this feel like an end?

* * *

 **A/N: *rebuilds tomato-resistant* alright, hit me.**

 **This hurt to write. Sorry for making you miserable. I skipped over the whole "I'm pregnant" scene. I wrote it, and it didn't fit. We saw it coming, and I really didn't feel it was necessary to elaborate. If you disagree, I'm sorry.**

 **There is no definite "This is how it happened", pregnancy just happens sometimes. If you don't think it's possible to get pregnant from a few missed doses, keep in mind that BC is not one-hundred percent effective.**

 **But more on that, later. We will find out more about Bella and what's going on in her head, but not quite yet.**

 **Until then...**


	15. May 12th, 2012 9:00 am

**A/N: Much thanks to Frannie for her beta skills and Fyrbyrd89 for helping me fix some errors. Thank you for reading!**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **May 12th, 2012**

 **9:00 a.m.**

My eyes strain against intrusive sunlight as it stretches across my bedroom. Brushing along the eggshell white surfaces of my bedroom walls, crawling along the navy blue colored carpet until it blankets over my body, suffocating me with yellow-lighted warmth. I shut my eyes and bring my arm up to cover my face.

I don't need to turn my head to know the girl who cried herself to sleep last night is no longer in my bed.

Rage swells up to my chest, and I find myself having to take conscious, carefully calculated breaths to keep myself from holding all the oxygen in my lungs.

Following the phosphenes behind my eyes and hearing the muffled sound of Emmett's fan from the next room, I focus on my breathing and tell myself that I don't have a reason to be angry.

 _Inhale._

It was her mistake.

 _Exhale._

But it wasn't.

 _Inhale._

 _Exhale._

 _Inhale._

I don't know why she left this time, but it's eating away at me. The knots twisting inside my gut tell me to go find her, but what if she doesn't want that?

 _Exhale..._

What if she wants me to stay away from her? Like all of this isn't hard enough as it is, she has to see me and know she's killing our baby.

 _Inhale..._

But what if she changed her mind, and she didn't want me to know? What if she pulled a classic Brightside move and left to play the martyr?

 _Exhale..._

What if she's only doing this because she thinks it's what I want?

 _Inhale … Inhale … Inhale..._

My thoughts go on like this for the next fifteen minutes; a vicious cycle of presumptive, panic-inducing, prematurely disconsolate questions that leave me forgetting how to breathe.

I think about all the things that I should have said but didn't.

I rake my hands through my hair and try to replay last night's events.

" _Just like that."_

My stomach churns, vomit bubbles in my throat.

No. It isn't just like that.

 _There has to be more than this._

I jump up and find my sneakers under the bed. I shove my feet into the already-tied thirty-dollar Wal-Mart shoes as I look for a new shirt to put on. I grab my keys from the dresser, which now only consist of two; one for the house and one for the sun-spotted death machine.

I leave my bedroom door open as I head towards the front of the house in long strides, not able to get to the front door fast enough. I pass the embarrassing cuckoo clocks and childhood photos that Bella loves so much, past the living room where my mom always sleeps on the couch with the TV on mute, and I don't stop walking until I step out of the house and the blinding sun showers over me.

It's Saturday; prom is tonight.

I'm going to find her.

I have to do something.

I don't know what, but I have to do something more than this.

I reach the station wagon and my eyes zero in on a car up ahead. It's a tan Impala with the left mirror hanging off the side and the driver's window rolled down. The boy inside has his arm hanging out the window with a cigarette dangling from his hand.

He sees me, and I see him sitting up in anticipation as he puts his addiction back to his mouth before he flicks it out the window.

This is Brightside's brother, and he's undoubtedly here to kick my ass.

I stand still as Jasper swivels his car to do shitty park job over my front lawn, and the driver's door flies open. With my feet still glued to the ground and my defenses shut down, I watch curiously as a head of dirty blonde curls emerges from the vehicle.

With Chicago-overpriced sunglasses shielding his eyes and a piece of gum protruding from his toothy unreadable grin, Jasper takes off into a jog towards me and doesn't stop until he shoves me against the door of my car.

"You knock up my sister, country boy?" I crane my neck towards him, only to see a tightly clenched white-knuckled fist flying towards me until it knocks into the side of my face.

I don't even think about the searing pain in my jaw or the rusty taste of blood in my mouth caused by my teeth slicing into the soft flesh on the inside of my cheek with the impact of Jasper's blow. No, I don't really give a fuck about that.

 _He called me country boy._

"You did, didn't you?" He tightens his hands around my tee shirt and uses it to pull me away from the car before slamming me back into it.

I plant my palms flat against the car behind me to steady myself.

"Come on, princess, fight. Talk. Something. Don't just stand there lookin' like a bitch."

He pulls back for another punch, and I spot my brother running up behind him. "Whoa, whoa!" Emmett holds his hands in the air, and Jasper drops another punch on my left shoulder.

I straighten out as my brother tackles him to the ground. Em locks Jasper in a straddle, getting ready to attack. Jasper attempts to shove Emmett away from him, but my brother is 215 pounds of muscle and he's not going anywhere.

My brother is fighting my battles for me.

"Emmett." I step forward and catch him by the forearm before he can punch Jasper in the face. "Stop."

"Get off me, Shrek!" Jasper crawls backwards, freeing himself from probable impending-death.

"Touch him again, motherfucker, I dare you." Emmett falls back on his elbows in the grass, looking between Jasper and me. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Pony boy knocked up my sister." Jasper reaches over the grass to pick up his sunglasses. His Ray-Bans are broken. I wonder how much money he had to drop on them. "And now she's on a train to Chicago, probably scraping change for a fucking bottle of water."

"What?!" I shout.

"He did what?" Emmett asks.

"Yeah." Jasper nods, jumping to his feet. "She took the abortion money that you"—he points to me—"gave her, and she bought a train ticket to Chicago."

I furrow my brows at him. "I didn't―"

"You gave Bella money to have an abortion?" I squeeze my eyes shut at the orotund voice behind me.

"No, I didn't." I shake my head and open my eyes to look at Rosalie. She looks crestfallen, disappointed.

Her features soften and she nods. She walks over and wraps her arms around me, pressing her cheek to my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Edward," she whispers. "You're not alone."

 _Bella is._

"Well, I have no clue how she got the ticket then." Jasper shrugs as Rose pulls away. "That's what Heidi told me happened, and―"

I suck a breath through my teeth.

 _Fucking Heidi._

"Heidi," Rose says.

"Heidi," I say through clenched teeth.

"Heidi." Jasper purses his lips, looking to me apologetically.

Bella got the money from Heidi, her sketchy cousin who lets her go home with whoever-the-fuck at three in the morning in a town she's never been to before.

"Who the fuck is Heidi?" Emmett asks.

"Our cousin," Jasper answers, eyeing me warily. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to―"

I raise a hand to cut him off. "What do you mean, she's going Chicago? Who's in Chicago?"

"When I couldn't get ahold of her, I called Heidi, and she said Bella caught a train, got the money from you ... Like my parents were just going to be cool with this. They were cool with her not answering her phone all night because she was with you, but this―"

"She didn't get any calls," I protest, because I know Bella didn't pull her phone out all night.

I think about her taking her shorts off in the grass, and I wonder if she dropped it.

"Who's in Chicago?" I repeat.

"My girlfriend," Jasper tells me, nodding. "She's going to see my girlfriend, Alice."


	16. May 12th, 2012 2:08 pm

**A/N: Frannie and Fyrebyrd89 make my words prettier :)**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **May 12th, 2012**

 **2:08 p.m.**

Panicking.

It's something I'm good at.

It's maybe, probably the only thing I'm good at.

She gives me the worst anxiety. She drives me crazy because she's crazy. Unpredictable and overwhelming. Irrational and underestimated. Facetious and mischievous. One second she's an open book, and the next she's sealed shut.

But I need Bella like I need air, sun, and music.

The face-bruiser is driving down I-90 East with a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his lips and a taped-fixed pair of Ray-Bans hung over his eyes. He hums and drums his fingers over the steering wheel to the beat of a Brandon Flowers song on the radio about having soul when you're not a soldier.

This is Brightside's brother, and he's getting on my last nerve.

But I kind of like him.

He's helping me get my girl.

He lied to my mother for me, told her that I was spending the weekend with him after prom, and that I would probably be back by Monday, so that she wouldn't freak out when I'm not home on Sunday night.

Probably won't be home by Monday. Probably not even Tuesday, but Jasper and his trusting sanguine smiles were enough for her to not give a fuck what I do this weekend.

"You and my sister, dude." Jasper flicks his cigarette out the window. Highway winds send white and black ash fluttering through the car until they settle on my shoulders and stick to my shirt. "You're like the quietest motherfucker I've ever met, and I can't get Bella to shut the fuck up. How does that happen?"

I suck at the inside of my cheek and wince at the taste of rust-salty blood from my cut opening back up.

I don't know what to say.

I don't know how it happened.

I heard a voice, saw a face, caused a smile, and I fell in love. Words didn't have much to do with it. It just happened.

"You need to smile some, kid," he tells me, rolling down the window some more. "Speak a little. Live a little. I know life is hard and you're in a rut, but it's not the end of the world. You have lungs, use them. Talk to me."

I push my hair away from my face, sighing through my nose.

Yeah, I still need a haircut.

"I know," I tell him, and I mean it.

My dad once told me that words are fragile, especially when you're not sure what you mean to say. He said that sometimes actions are more powerful.

When Bella told me she was pregnant, I kind of just stood there and stared at my feet. Actions seemed meaningless. I couldn't bring myself to do anything powerful. So I hugged her, and I hoped that was enough.

It wasn't.

Actions aren't more powerful; we need words to make things work.

I could've told her that I love her. I could've told her that I'll be there for her no matter what she chooses to do. I could've told her that we have options and that I will never judge her, because my Brightside girl cares too much about what people think.

She cares too much about what I think. Maybe that's love, though. Or something like it.

I'm still struggling with knowing what I could have said, what I should have.

So I tell Jasper what I know: "I love Bella. She doesn't know it yet, but I do. And I think I'm afraid I might say something to make her run away, but I sort of did that anyway without even trying. I fucked up ..."

I stop talking, and look out the window to watch the trees blur past.

I couldn't tell you what it is about these people, but they keep me honest.

Jasper is just like his sister though.

Yeah, he kicked my ass earlier, but he's over it.

He's kind, open, and forgiving.

"Yeah," he says, as if I didn't just blurt out an entire speech. "I can see that. I know you're scared, but you don't have anything to worry about. I mean …" He laughs. "Life is fucking crazy, and we're all gonna fuck it up at some point. You're thinking too much and saying too little. My sister understands. She's crazy, but she knows. I don't know much about you or your family, man, but you're not alone. Even the chief made sure of that when he let Bella's ass stay the night at your place."

I groan, hating myself even more. "Fantastic."

He laughs again. "Don't be afraid to talk to people. Ask for help. No one expects you to know all the answers."

I stare at my driver, the escape artist, and I know he's right.

"Yeah," I whisper.

"Come on. Sing it with me, Ed." He turns the radio and starts nodding his head to the song. " _Yeah you know you gotta help me out. Yeah, oh don't you put me on the back burner."_

I laugh.

I fucking _laugh,_ and it doesn't even feel like I'm trying _._

It's almost like Brightside's here in the car with me.

Jasper is driving me all the way to Chicago, even though I didn't do anything to deserve it.

I have a fucked-up face, a pregnant girlfriend who's on a train somewhere without any money, and I have her cell phone in my back pocket.

My anxiety is high, my heart is slamming against my ribcage, and I have no idea what I'm doing.

But I'm sixteen.

I need help, and I'm not alone.

I'm going to get her, and we're going to figure this out. Together.

I don't know how yet.

And that's okay.

.

.

.

 **4:56 p.m.**

"There's this new girl in town. I call her Brightside. Emmett likes her, but he says she smells like trees. I think she smells good, like lavender …"

I suck at this. I don't even know what I'm trying to do, but Jasper seems to think this will help me.

I don't know.

Maybe it will.

"Anyway, I think she's going to have my baby."

I stare at the headstone like I'm waiting to gauge its reaction.

Three rows ahead, Jasper sits on Emily Lancaster's grave, chowing down on a seven-layer burrito. He's got his phone to his ear, talking to his mother and reassuring her that we are riding with our seatbelts on. Some cheese falls on his shirt. He cranes his neck to lick it off.

I have only spent a few hours with him, but I've decided that he's one of the most cringe-worthy people I've ever met.

"I don't really know though yet. I don't even know if I want that. I have"—I check my watch—"twelve hours to figure that out."

A bird flies overhead and lands in a nearby willow tree. I find myself watching it as it navigates its way through the shrub.

"Uh … yeah … I haven't known her for long, but I think you'd love her. She's the coolest chick in the world. Life doesn't suck so much, you know?" I purse my lips. "Of course you don't, you're dead. Life doesn't get any shittier than death."

I roll my eyes.

"I don't think I'm ready to have a kid, I don't even know if that's what Bella wants. I wasn't even really ready for a relationship either, but that just happened."

This isn't helping me.

But I go on, anyway.

"This is all kind of fucked up. We get three options, we get to make a choice, and still, they all suck. I don't know what I can do to make this any easier, but I'm going to try. I don't want to lose Bella. I don't want to lose what we have, or what we could."

I stare at the headstone a little longer.

I nod, convinced that helped. "Good talk, Dad."

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and I slide my hand in to retrieve it.

Reason number three-thousand to be grateful for Bella Swan: she convinced me to get this fucking phone, and I don't know what I'd do without it.

I look at the screen, and my heart stops for a millisecond, before it picks up to a speed twice what it was before.

I'm not panicking. This is a different kind of anxiety.

It's an unknown number.

I slide the answer bar over and put the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

For a moment, it's so silent that I think the caller hung up. And then I can hear everything at once; a whoosh of muffled voices, a cry, someone sneezing, a laugh, and, lastly, a familiar soft sigh.

 _"Edward."_


	17. May 12th, 2012 5:00 pm

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **May 12th, 2012**

 **5:00 p.m**

What do you do when your girlfriend is crying hysterically on the phone and you can't get her to calm down? What do you do when she tells you that she can't have an abortion, so she panicked and left in the middle of the night? What do you do when she begs for you to take her back, even though you never let her go in the first place?

The answer: "I know. You're okay. We're okay. Everything is going to be fine."

And repeat, because she won't hear it the first few times you say it.

Bella is choking on her own sobs, drowning in guilt and sorrow. I'm trying to piece together what she's trying to say to me, but it comes out in short but frenzied apologetic phrases.

 _"Please don't hate me."_

 _"Please don't leave me."_

 _"Please don't let me go."_

I decide not to tell her that her brother kicked my ass.

"I don't hate you." I try to sound strong, soft and soothing. "I could never hate you."

You can only say so much when someone you care about is upset. Sometimes you just have to let her cry.

Sometimes you just have to say what you can, and hope she'll listen. Repeat what you know until she finally understands.

"I could never hate you."

"I would never leave you."

"I can't let you go."

I try to make Brightside find her light again by saying things like, "I know you can't do it. I don't want you to do it."

And: "everything will be okay."

And: "we'll figure it out together."

Then: "I'm on my way. Just breathe."

Eventually, Bella's sobs reduce to small whimpers, her choking transforms into hiccupping, and her pleas grow silent.

I listen to the sound of her breathing slowing and softening.

 _"I'm scared, Edward."_

"I know," I tell her, because I do know.

I'm terrified. Bella's fears were and are mine, too. I don't want her to hate me, leave me, and let me go.

We're two kids without a clue what to do, and we're holding onto each other.

She's my greatest mistake, and I'm hers. She doesn't want me to hurt her with my silent treatments and my heart failing to open itself up to her. She doesn't want to do something that I'm going to resent her for, and that's why she's on a train, crying into a stranger's phone.

She's running away from heartbreak, and I'm chasing after it.

But her phone call reminds me of why I can't get this girl out of my head. She knows what her heart can handle, she wears it on her sleeve. And that doesn't include ridding of the life that she and I created.

We are two kids who don't know what to do, but we know what not to do.

And, honestly, with Bella, I feel like we could figure it out. This girl could help me figure out rocket science. She helped me understand how car engines work.

I have faith.

Standing up from my spot in the grass where I was leaning against my father's headstone, I keep the phone to my ear and head back to the car while Jasper revs the engine a couple of times.

"Just breathe, Bella. Wait for me."

I hear her take a deep breath and exhale. _"I will."_


	18. May 12th, 2012 Time

**A/N: Wow! You guys are so awesome. Thank you for reading/reviewing/recommending/favoriting/following my little story. I went back and did some editing *ugly cringe face* sorry about that. I promise to get help with future chapters. I even put it on a sticky note-that's dedication right there.**

 **Fran totally helped me with this. I've been suffering from writer's block and she's been super helpful with her suggestions.**

 **Anyway, here is a story about the beginning of a friendship.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

 **May 12th, 2012**

 **Time**

I don't have all of the answers.

Heck, I don't have _any_ of the answers.

I think my grade point average alone is enough to attest to this fact.

I don't know much, but I do know that you could get from my home in Hick Town, Washington to Chicago, Illinois in less than two days. If time really means that much to you, you can drive these two thousand something miles in one day, nine hours, and fifty-two minutes—this I figured out on a Taco Bell napkin.

You could speed down the highway, break the fuck out of the law, and force yourself to stay awake just to get all of the driving out of the way.

Or ...you could take your time.

Of course, I'd rather go with the latter, but my escape artist would disagree.

"We'll get there before she does," Jasper informs me as we ride down I-94 East. "We have time."

Time flies before it crawls. I glance at the clock and it's five. A few moments later, it's seven. Hours later, it's still seven.

Forty-eight hours ago, if you told me that I'd be making a new friend, I probably would've punched you in the face.

I would've said: "I don't need a friend, I need a fucking miracle."

I would've been wrong.

Jasper makes conversation by asking me about my hobbies, my drawings, and my favorite music. He never gets too deep by asking personal questions about my mother, and he doesn't step out of line by inquiring about my father's death, but I almost feel compelled to tell him about it anyway.

I don't know much about friendships, but I think that they can blossom even in the most unexpected places.

Jasper is simple. Sort of boring. Kind of not. He's sort of totally awesome.

We discuss baseball and share our excitement over art. We talk about his sister and her addiction to pre-packaged cakes and Sunny D, and I try not to laugh when he tells me how bad it really is.

"It has always been a problem," he tells me as I drive down a highway that I have no idea how to navigate. North Dakota crisp-cool winds drift in through the cracked windows of the car and graze through the hairs at the back of my neck as I jerk my head from Jasper to the road.

"Bella would go through sugar withdrawals in Chicago. She'd steal change off of my dad's dresser and sneak down to the nearest store so she could pig out. My mom would find out later and she'd give her a lecture on GMOs before she'd make her drink baking soda and water to put her body in homeostasis. Crazy, right?"

Crazy doesn't even begin to cover it.

He laughs. "I know it seems unorthodox, but it's one of those crazy things moms do to show that they care, you know? She tried the best she could, but we still make mistakes. We still drink and smoke and eat crap."

Sadly, I do.

"Moms are crazy," I agree.

Jasper is an easygoing conversationalist, but he has his moments. Just like Brightside, he gets excited about things he's passionate about. Animatedly, he speaks with his hands and his facial features. Just like her, he tells a story within a story and eventually gets so sidetracked to the point where he just gives up.

He comes back to his original story minutes later.

He talks about his favorite movies, and I pretend to know what he's talking about.

He tells me about the girl who stole his heart, and how these few months without her have been hell. This time, I do understand.

I feel like I've been living in hell too, until I met Brightside. She put me through hell once or twice, and maybe I'd still be stuck in it if it weren't for Jasper.

He informs me that Alice and Bella have been best friends since birth and that he's surprised they were able to keep apart this long.

"It's not a surprise to me," he says as we exit North Dakota and enter Minnesota. "Alice has always been Bella's security blanket, in a way. When she'd panic or get into fights, she'd run to her to sort out her problems. She felt safe with Alice."

We don't run out of things to talk about. We ask questions, we talk about the trivial things; about things that don't really matter.

And we talk about things that do.

I end up telling Jasper why my dad was buried so far from my hometown, and he doesn't pass any judgments. He just listens.

Times flies.

* * *

 **May 13th, 2012**

 **4:45 a.m.**

 _"I'm sorry."_

"Tell me about the train," I say instead.

I'm sitting on the curb outside of a Motel 6 with one of Jasper's cigarettes between my thumb and forefinger and my iPhone wedged between my shoulder and left ear. Jasper is inside the motel room recharging while I talk to Bella. He told me that I need to sleep too, but I can't.

Apparently, neither can Brightside.

 _"It's empty, for the most part."_ I hear her sigh. " _There's this woman named Emily. She keeps coming over and talking to me. Her husband is here, too. He smells like Aqua Velva. He bought me a bottle of Yoo-Hoo."_

I groan into my hands.

"Don't talk to anybody, baby."

 _"They're harmless."_

I am freaking the fuck out.

"You don't know that." My volume increases with my anxiety. "You're sixteen. They could kidnap you."

 _"They're in their seventies, Edward. Emily is letting me use her phone."_

I feel better.

 _"How are you getting along with Jasper?"_

I still haven't told her that her brother kicked my ass.

"Good," I tell her honestly. "Your brother really likes graffiti art. He swears he met Banksy."

She laughs lightly. It's the best sound in the world _. "He's lying."_

My lips curve up just enough to form a smile. "Yeah, I figured."

There's this peaceful moment of silence between us when all I can hear is the steady sound of uncorrupted breathing. We aren't talking about being scared and clueless, and we aren't apologizing to each other for the mistakes we've made.

 _"Edward …"_

I toss my cigarette to the road, deciding in this moment to never to smoke again. It's gross.

I push a hand through my hair, sighing away from the phone. "I'm here."

Time crawls.

 _"Thank you."_

I don't know what kind of girl thanks the guy who got her knocked up, but I know she's not grateful for that.

We just missed prom, and we're definitely going to miss a few days of school because of this. She just hopped on a train to Chicago, and I'm okay with driving one thousand and three hundred of those miles she ran away from just to meet her there **.** Heck, I'd drive all two thousand of them.

"Don't thank me," I whisper, rubbing my hands over my eyes. "Just tell me you won't run away from me again."

I know she won't. I hope not.

There's a second of silence, a sigh, and a sniffle. _"I won't. I promise."_

* * *

I don't rush to Chicago.

I do what Jasper tells me I should do and I take my time, because I've learned how important it is to be patient.

We leave Minnesota before dawn breaks.

I have enough time to make a couple of stops along the way. I call my mother and pretend that I'm hiking through the woods when I'm actually hiding out in a truck stop bathroom a thousand-plus miles from home.

I have enough time to get Taco Bell and McDonald's, and all the shitty foods of America to give me gas. I have time to have a burping contests with someone who makes me cringe and laugh at the same time.

I even have time to let my mind reel while I drive with the radio off and the windows rolled down, and I don't feel like I'm freaking out. I think about all of the things that I've done, and I have panic attacks every time I hit traffic, because although I have patience, I really only have a little.

It's enough time to figure out how I feel.

* * *

Jasper and I get from my small town in Hick-ville, Washington to Chicago Union Station in one day, fifteen hours, and forty-five minutes.

Waiting for us there is a girl. Two girls, actually. One I came here for, and another who sees my newest friend over a bustling crowd of people waiting at by help desk **.** One girl smiles and breaks off into a full jog headed towards us.

This girl is Brightside's best friend, and she practically mauls Jasper at the train station.

I tear my eyes away from this intimate display between two people who've proved to be of a strange significance to me, and scan my eyes around the large building.

Inside, I'm still nervous.

I can't help it.

All of this started with a smile—a Brightside-smile. I didn't know why I welcomed her into my life, but her smile was only the beginning. When I'm around her, I don't even have to think, which could be the worst or the best thing ever. It lead to us creating a life.

Not knowing what else we're capable of together makes me nervous.

Brightside was right. Together, we are one and the same.

I still don't have all of the answers.

I'm in trouble.

A lot of trouble.

Basically, I'm fucked. And I'm nervous because we only have so much time to figure out something that will affect us for the rest of our lives.

The girl I drove halfway across the country to find answers with is leaning against the help desk wearing a somber expression and my favorite hoodie. She doesn't realize I'm here yet, but her face shows that she's waiting for me. Her brown eyes are tired and unfocused, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip and her eyebrows are furrowed with concentration.

She's too deep in thought to notice that her friend has left her side; too gone to notice that I'm here.

I take one step in her direction, and her head finally snaps upward. Her eyes find mine in an instant, and the hopelessness vanishes.

Lighter than the first time, my feet carry me to her. We meet halfway between the line at the help desk and the space where the two people who are helping us stand. I ignore her apologetic eyes and the way she opens her mouth to tell me she's sorry.

I tell her to shut up and hug her before she gets the chance to say anything.

I wrap my arms around her waist and squeeze her against me as if it's been years since the last time I saw her. I bury my face in her hair and breathe in her strange organic vanilla and lavender scented hair. Bella wraps her hands around my neck and hugs me back with just as much purpose, like it's been forever and not just a few days.

"I am so sorry." She cries into my neck. "I'm so so sorry, I'll never do anything like that again. I'm so scared. I don't want to lose you, I don't want to leave you. I love you."

Time crawls.

I can't help but smile, even though we're so fucked, and she's crying and babbling and she's not making any sense.

Nothing can explain the immense relief I feel in this moment. Just to see her face, know that she's okay, and she loves me.

"I should've asked you how you felt." She continues to cry. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I shouldn't have run off―"

I squeeze my arms tighter around her warm body. "We'll figure it out, Bella. I'm not mad. We'll figure it out together."

She nods against my shoulder. As if it were even possible to get any closer, she holds me to her harder than I knew she was capable of and breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Together."

* * *

 **A/N: I was tempted to leave it with "We got to Chicago", but I missed Bella too much not to include a fluff-love.**

 **True story: my mother made me drink baking soda and water to put my inner body in homeostasis... I know. Seemed like something my version of Renee would do.**

 **Anyway... let's figure this out, shall we?**

 **Thank you for reading.**


	19. May 14th, 2012 7:45 am

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading/reviewing/sharing. You guys are so awesome. And for those lurkers out there who are sticking around: hey, you. Thank for reading.**

 **I am writing two other stories here, FYI. They are very different from Lover Of The Light. If you want to read something of mine that isn't in the perspective of a teenage boy, you can check out Jilted or Children of Friends. Jilted is a crime fiction. Definitely more angst than romance right now and it's so much more complex.**

 **Children of Friends is a romance/friendship/comedy/hurt &comfort. ****I know. I can't stick with one genre of writing.**

 **I'm on Twitter for some reason: sydvicious93**

 **Fran is my awesome beta.**

 **I'll stop talking now.**

 **P.S. I own nothing.**

* * *

 **May 14th, 2012**

 **7:45 a.m.**

Chicago is windy. Nice … ish. It doesn't smell like freshly-turned soil and boredom. It smells even worse. Winds smell like garbage trucks and deadly fumes, but it doesn't fail to fascinate me.

With my hand secured around Brightside's, I don't feel like my thoughts are afflicting me as Alice shows us to her home on a street named West Wisconsin. We walk past brick apartments next to smaller houses with small spaces in between and even smaller yards behind them.

I feel like a kid at Disney, taking in this strange city with wide eyes and wondering if I'm going to get lost if I let go of Bella's hand.

I know this is normal. I've been to Seattle once or twice. My dad took us when we were little. Emmett always complained the whole car ride, so we never really got the chance to get out and walk around.

I've never felt so small town.

Bella, looking like she hasn't slept since last August, points down the street to a red brick building with arch-shaped windows and white shutters. "I used to live there; Jasper threw a baseball through the second story window."

Turning my head to examine the house further, she stops me by catching my face in her hands. "Edward, is that a bruise on your cheek?"

Shit.

"What?" I play dumb, still not ready to tell her that her brother kicked my ass.

Brightside cares too much; she suffers from a chronic case of guilty conscience. She still won't forgive herself for running to Chicago, and she'll probably have a coronary if she finds out Jasper punched me.

She does.

Bella stops walking mid-stride and catches me by my forearm. Her eyes brim with tears as her chin wrinkles up. "Jasper did that? Did he hit you, Edward?"

Shaking my head, I try to come up with a distraction as she falls apart in front of my eyes again.

Times like these, I think of my brother and the ridiculous things he says when his girlfriend's upset.

What would Emmett do?

Once, all he had to say was, _"Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, b, a,_ _start."_

 _The Konami Code will not cheer Bella up, Cullen._

So I say, "How many of my hoodies do you have?"

Sniffling, she uses the sleeve of my hoodie to wipe under her eyes. She's a mess; sleepless eyes, red cheeks and pouted lips. "What?"

"My hoodies, Bella. How many do you have?"

Smiling just enough to show me she has some light in there, Bella shakes her head. "It's just the one. I put them back when they stop smelling like you."

She steals my hoodies because they smell like me.

"You're serious?" I'm teasing her. I could care less if she takes my whole wardrobe. I just need her to stop worrying about me. "Do you take my sweats, too?"

Smiling a little wider, she isn't suffering from the same guilty conscience she was before. "I'm not a thief, I'm a borrower."

I think about the time she told me I smell like sunshine, right before she asked to lick my neck.

I nod carefully, pretending to consider her answer. "That's fine. As long as I'm the only guy you're stealing hoodies from."

Fighting a smile that threatens to grow a little wider, she wipes at her eyes and huffs. "Of course you are." She shakes her head. "Stop distracting me."

"You're tired. We should talk about this later."

She studies me for a moment longer, bringing her hands to my jaw to inspect my face further. She looks up at me, frowning. "Are you sure you're okay? Does it hurt?"

I shake my head. "No. I'm fine."

Disbelieving, she drops her hands to her sides and looks down the street to Jasper. "No, you're not. I―"

I don't let her finish her sentence. I take her cheek in my hands to turn her face back toward me. Instead of trying to tell her again, I show her I'm okay by wrapping my hands around the back of her neck to kiss her.

I don't mean to take her by surprise, but I have a strange way of doing things in a way that people least expect it.

I am typical-teenage-awkward.

But maybe I'm not, because Bella only hesitates for a few seconds before she responds.

Awkward and extremely hot at the same time, we pull away noisily and Bella has to catch her breath.

I almost want to give myself a high five.

Almost.

"See?" I say, dropping my hands to my side like it's nothing. "I'm fine."

Wide awake now, she nods carefully. "Um … Okay."

 **9:00 a.m.**

Alice in one word: Happy.

It's almost annoying at first, but I should've guessed Brightside's best friend would've been a Pixie-Rainbow girl. She's charismatic and comical, just the thing we needed to dispel the sulky tension we took with us when we left the train station earlier.

I really didn't think people could get any happier than Bella, and maybe, up until a few minutes ago, I thought Alice could be that person. That all changes when she introduces me to her mom.

Mary Brandon is five foot nine, slightly rounded and plump, with a heart-shaped face. Her hair is a rich shade of red, the color of Gala apples. She doesn't look a thing like her daughter, but that's because she didn't technically give birth to Alice; she and her husband found their daughter through an adoption agency seventeen years ago.

"You guys can sleep in my office," she tells Jasper and me as she leads us down one of the longest hallways I've ever seen in someone's house. "We keep an air mattress in there for Bella, although she usually ends up in Alice's bed every time she stays over anyway, so it should be good as new."

"It is," Bella confirms.

"And you're definitely sleeping with Alice tonight." She gives Bella a pointed look before she averts her gaze to Jasper. "And you're to stay with Edward. Are we clear?"

Jasper looks to Mary with an impish smile. "I would never disrespect your wishes, Mrs. Brandon, but I would like to ask your permission to take Alice out tonight."

Shifting where I stand, I start to feel guilty. Bella and Jasper have always been respectful towards adults, and here I am lying about my current location. Bella didn't even want to come inside my house the night I met her because she thought my mother wouldn't approve.

"Of course you can." Her smile is warm and trusting. "You know I don't mind, especially since you're just here for tonight. Just have my daughter home at a decent hour and wear your seatbelts."

I try to remember the last time my mom told me or one of my friends to wear a seatbelt. I don't know if it's that she never told me, or if I never listened.

 **4:44 p.m.**

"Can I lay in here with you?"

I look up from my phone and furrow my brows at the girl who can't seem to sleep. She's leaning against the doorframe with damp hair cascading over her shoulder. I can smell a strange fragrance on her from across the room, a pungent strawberry scent, unlike her usual vanilla and lavender.

Nodding, I scoot over to make room for her. She slides down on the air mattress and curls up next me, bringing my arm around the back of her neck as a makeshift pillow.

I almost feel good enough to sleep.

The house is quiet; empty. Mary left for work a few hours ago, and Alice and Jasper left for their date. They offered to bring us with them, but I really didn't think Bella could handle it.

And now we're disrespecting Mary's rules, but I'm not sure that she knows about the third life yet.

"When's the last time you slept?" I ask, reaching over her to rub my fingers through her sweet-smelly damp hair.

She sighs against my chest. "I don't know … I didn't sleep much on the train."

"And you didn't sleep Friday night either," I murmur. "Bella, you have to try and get some sleep before we leave."

She nods. "I'm trying. I promise."

I know Brightside is thinking about the other life. I know she is; we're one and the same. I can feel it. I can feel how tired she is, but she's fighting it. It's in the stiffness in her shoulders and the sharpness in her breaths. I can feel her concentration, her sadness, and her drifting thoughts.

It is possible to feel what other's feel when you care enough about them. Even when they're halfway across the country.

"We don't have to talk about it yet," I tell her, running my hands through her hair in an attempt to lull her to sleep. "You should sleep first, Bella."

She nods slowly. Her voice is a small whisper. "Okay."

For a few moments, we just lay there breathing, until I lift my head up far enough and realize she finally fell asleep. Giving the air a small fist pump, I feel victorious for this short moment of peaceful silence.

Then the phone vibrates in my hand.

Turning it over in my hands while trying not to stir my sleeping girlfriend, I frown at the screen.

Of course **,** I've been waiting for this. I know she's probably figured it out by now that I'm not in Forks. I didn't go to school today. By now she should've realized I haven't been home yet. It's Monday. She probably got home from a twelve-hour shift last night and didn't realize I was gone until someone called her.

Skillfully maneuvering out from under Bella's sleep-heavy limbs, I hold the phone away from her and wait until I'm in the hallway to pick it up. "Hello?"

 _"You're in big trouble, young man."_

I really shouldn't be surprised my mother found out about Chicago. Small town, word spreads fast. Someone sees you crossing the county line and people start to talk. Someone heard from Heidi that Bella ran away to Chicago. Someone told their mother and her best friend's sister saw us leaving Forks or something like that.

My mom is hysterical.

After listening to her cry on the phone for fifteen minutes, I realize how unfair I've been to her.

I tell Mom I'm sorry for lying to her and promise to call her every hour. I repeatedly tell her I'm safe as she starts coming up with these unlikely scenarios like Mary Brandon is a serial killer.

She's crazy, but it's how she shows she cares.

After a lengthy conversation about _having_ a long discussion, I give Mom Alice's mom's phone number and promise to call her again later tonight.

It's not enough. She's so angry, and I get it. She has every right to be angry with me.

I say fifteen goodbyes before I finally hang up the phone. The first ten are ignored because she keeps remembering something else she has to say to me. The last five are back-to-back because she doesn't want to say goodbye.

 _"Don't lie to me again, Edward. I trusted you."_

She really did.

"I won't. I promise."

She has no idea …

I end the call and slide the phone in my pocket, turning back to the room as a bright picture hanging on the wall catches my eye **.** It's a photo of Alice's parents, holding a small, happy baby in their arms.

I still can't believe it ...

They _adopted_ her.

It's a strange concept to me. I guess it doesn't really make sense in my mind. Logically, I'm aware that this is an option for us, but I don't understand it.

Mary and Peter Brandon _willingly_ took this girl into their home and loved her as if she was their own. They welcomed her. They wanted her. They _adored_ her, and they still do. They never treated her like she was a mistake—why would they?

I always sort of assumed kids were more of a burden than a blessing. Emmett and I weren't a mistake, but we definitely weren't planned. I couldn't see anyone from Forks trying to adopt a baby. Why would they? Half of my town consists of high school dropouts—girls who got pregnant, kids that started doing drugs, or some that just gave up on life.

I'm stupid, but I'm not that stupid. If Brightside wants this baby, I'm not going to just give up on school. I know how it goes, I'm surrounded by living consequences of bad decisions. My town is proof of what giving up does to you, and Bella gives me a reason to try harder. Be better. Add a life that we made to that equation, and it only makes me want to work even harder.

My life isn't restricted to my hometown **;** Bella sort of showed me that. There are possibilities. Now, I can't actually say that I can't go to college because I'm dumb and poor. I can't lie, and tell her that I want to be a trucker when I grow up, because of course I never wanted to be that.

Maybe I want to do things.

See things.

Go places.

Be something more … with her.

"I can tell you're thinking really hard right now." I snap my head to my left and jump when I find Bella standing there beside me. She looks between the picture and me, smiling slightly. "It's crazy, right?"

I can't respond fast enough. "W-What?"

She shrugs. "Alice's family. They seem so normal, don't they? Happy-Go-Lucky." She bites her lip contemplatively. "They really aren't, but then again I don't think any family is _normal_. But at least they're happy …"

"Yeah." I look back to the picture.

There really is no such thing as normal. Normal doesn't really matter to me. But happy counts for something.

Looking back down to her, I open my mouth but it's harder to make the words fall out as I picture them in my head. "Is that …"

She nods slowly, as though she can read my mind. "I've been thinking about it ..." She looks at me with murky eyes. "We're so young, Edward."

There's this lull between us when I don't really think there's much I can say to make things any different. She's been thinking about it, and there really isn't anything I can say.

This is what I feared most about this discussion. I want to tell Bella that we're not alone, people would be there to help us. The scary part is telling her this without making it seem like I'm pressuring her to keep the life inside her.

But I also know that I'm young, and maybe my reluctance and my immaturity go hand-in-hand. My trepidation, my anxiety, and my evasive attitude only serve to complicate things further between us. My apathy the other night stems from a childish fear of losing her, of thinking that this could be the end. It only goes to show how insensitive I can seem when I'm not being honest.

I force the words out of my mouth. "I know we're young, but we're not alone."

It's simple, but it means everything.

Taking a shuddering breath, she nods slowly. "I know that, but …" Pressing her lips together, she looks up at me with glassy eyes. "I kept thinking on the train, and I realized how stupid and impulsive I am … I have so much growing up to do … So much ... And I think maybe we should grow up before we try to teach someone else how to …"

Swallowing back the acidic feeling in my throat, ignoring the tightness in my chest, I can't bring myself to disagree with her.

She's right.

Of course **,** she's right.

We're not alone, but that doesn't mean we have to be parents. We're only beginning to understand life. I have a self-revelation every ten minutes of my life. I have a lot of growing up to do.

Knowing this, doesn't make it feel any better, but I don't feel nearly as bad as I did the night she told me she was pregnant. This is different. We aren't doing this out of selfishness. We're trying to make an informed decision, and I can't deny how right she is.

I don't risk silence. I need words to make things work.

"It's okay." I close the distance between us and bring my hand up to her face to wipe her wet cheeks. "You're not stupid. Bella, we don't need to know right this second. But if you're seriously considering adoption, can I say one thing?"

Giving me her full attention, she nods vehemently. "You can say anything, Edward … I can handle it."

"I think it would be wise if, um ... If we did that. Maybe we could find a family that's not too close to home, but not so far that we can't be there. You know, because stuff happens and ..." I grow silent, not knowing where to go from here. There's still so much to say, but I think about giving the other life to strangers and I think I'd rather know it's safe. That's what seems to matter most to me.

Bella nods and rests her head against my chest. "That's a really good idea." She sighs. "There are people out there just like Alice's parents. I don't want our baby to go to just anybody …"

I find her hand and push my fingers between hers until we're palm-to-palm. "We won't do that. We'll find happy people. Good people."

She starts to cry silently and I wrap my arms around her. "I'm sorry," she sobs. "I can't stop crying—I need sleep."

"Don't be sorry. You told me how you felt." I nod, rubbing my hand over her back. "We should look into this, find out more."

"And you? How do you feel?"

Looking down at her, I know how I feel. She's new beginnings to me, no matter what. I love her, I want to watch her be a mom someday. She's pure-hearted; honest and caring. She'd be a great mom. Maybe with her, I'd be an okay dad.

But she's not ready, and neither am I.

I'm still jumbled, I'm tired, and I don't know if anything I'm thinking is valid.

So I say what feels right: "I feel like we should do what's best for the baby."

She nods. "Yeah …" She tightens her arms around my waist. "You're right."

Looking up at the ceiling, battling chest-tightening emotions and fighting hours of lost sleep, I think for once, I might be.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading.**


	20. May 16th, 2012 10:45 am

**A/N: Huge thank you to Fyrebyrd89 and SunflowerFran.**

 **I'm on Facebook now. You can see banners and stuff or just stalk me or whatever:** **www dot facebook dot com / vampiregirl93**

 **Or you can just look up my name: Sydney Taylor**

 **There is a new banner for Lover Of The Light at the link on my page made by 2brown-eyes, and another made by me. They're pretty cute.**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **May 16th, 2012**

 **10:45 a.m.**

I knew Bella would be sad about having to leave Alice to return home. I knew it would be hard saying goodbye. She was kind of melancholy the whole ride back, which is understandable. We have to face reality, we can't just hide out in Chicago for the summer. We have to finish up the last few days of junior year, we have to talk to our parents about the other life.

We have big issues waiting for us in Forks.

But there was one I didn't plan on at all …

I did not know that Charlie Swan would be waiting at the county line, ready to rip me a new asshole.

I did not know he would pull us over and tell me to follow him to his home so we could 'have a little chat'.

Yeah ... That just happened.

I'm still alive though, which I guess is a good sign. My heart is still beating. Sort of. It's abnormally fast, but its beating.

I'm sitting in a stiff chair at a mahogany table where Brightside eats dinner with her family every night. I'm dirtying up the Swans' clean, laminate floor with my sneakers and trying not to fidget like a scared little boy. There's a ficus tree in every corner of this dining room, so everything smells musky, like damp soil and lime.

I wonder if it masks the scent of fear seeping through my pores.

Renee and Charlie Swan both seem oddly relaxed seated across from us, and it's not helping me in the slightest.

 _I'm freaking out._

Chief Swan isn't in the mood.

He means business; his new mustache says it all. He cut his hair, got rid of the Duck Dynasty beard; he looks like an average Joe, and he's not fucking around.

He knows what went down already—knows that I barely knew his daughter before we got to fornicating. It's simple math, really. As far as he knows, I kissed Bella on the front porch steps last week; I've been dating her for a week. We did not make a baby in those seven days, and that's why Charlie has his poker face on right now.

The only things keeping me from having a panic attack is the tiny shred of assurance that Bella's hand-holding provides. That, along with the fact that I can see the Chief's firearm holster hanging from the coat rack by the front door. If he goes for it, I can easily make it to the back door in time.

 _Solid plan, Cullen._

I don't really know what other guys my age say in situations such as these.

 _I'm sorry I knocked up your daughter?_

No.

This is something I'm still struggling with. In the blink of an eye, my entire life has changed, and there is not one fucking book out there to help me understand what to do. My life isn't an MTV series, this shit is real and it's happening whether I want it to or not. Is it really that unusual for a teenage boy to take responsibility for his actions?

I googled it.

There's a scarce amount of information available on the internet for teen fathers, let alone those who are considering adoption. I understand that it's a woman's choice—as it should be—but I guess I was hoping to find something like _Sixteen and Got Your Girlfriend Pregnant, For Dummies_.

Bella is emotional—she's a hot mess. She doesn't know what to say to her parents, and I definitely haven't the slightest clue where to begin.

I considered giving Charlie a speech about smiles and telling him that I fell in love with his daughter at first sight and promising to make her an honest woman, but … it's 2012. Charlie doesn't want me to marry his daughter, he wants to put me in a choke hold.

He leans back in his chair, wearing an impassive expression, looking between Brightside and me as though he's trying to figure out which of us he wants to start interrogating.

Renee looks between the three of us and gives her daughter a small smile as Charlie takes a deep breath.

He looks to Bella and releases a guttural sigh.

"You are grounded. From now on, you're to go to school and return home immediately." He plants his pointer finger on the table for emphasis, speaking with his hands just like his children. "Do not make any stops along the way. Do not talk to Heidi, and do not try to leave Forks again, Bella, because I promise you that next time I won't make it so easy. You are _sixteen_ -years-old. Do you know how many times your mother had to stop me from putting out an Amber alert? Don't ever do that again."

Bella nods slowly, keeping her eyes on the ground.

"I'm sorry, Dad." She lifts her head high enough to look at Renee. "Thank you, Mom."

"Don't thank me, Bella." Renee shakes her head vehemently. "That was unacceptable. Did you really think we'd let you stay there? Promise me that you won't ever do something like that again. We've been so worried."

"I won't." She wipes her eyes, keeping her gaze steadied on the ground. "I promise."

"And you." Charlie directs his gaze to me.

I swallow back a scream.

"I don't understand what was going through my daughter's head when she took off like that, but thank you for going after her. I'm sure you're probably in as much trouble as Bella right now. The fact that you and my son drove across the country means a lot ... But don't do it again."

I feel my jaw drop.

 _I am so confused._

"That was extremely reckless. Next time you decide to white-knight my daughter, have an adult with you."

 _Is he serious right now?_

Clearing my throat, I force myself to nod. "Uh―"

He starts to stand up. "And I cannot believe your _audacity_ —"

"Charlie." Renee places a hand on his chest and shoves him back down in his chair. "Honey, I think you said what needed to be said. Why don't we let the boy go home now?"

Charlie opens his mouth to protest. "Oh **,** I haven't even _begun_ ―"

"I'm keeping the baby!" Bella blurts out.

Charlie drops his jaw and I feel my eyes grow wide while my heart skips a beat.

"I mean … I'm not _keeping_ the baby. But I'm not having an abortion." She places her hand over her stomach again. "I can't do that—I can't kill it."

He watches his daughter for a moment, his gaze softening.

"Oh, sweetheart." Renee reaches across the table to take Bella's hand. "We'd never force you to do something like that. It's an extremely difficult decision to make, but we wouldn't make you do something your heart couldn't handle."

Charlie shifts in his chair. "No, we wouldn't. But I have to ask you, kid ..." he leans forward to plant his elbows on the table, rubbing his hands over his face. "What the hell do you think you're gonna do, Bells? This isn't a cold, it won't just go away on its own. I understand that you don't want to ..."

I wait for him to go on.

"I think they're talking about adoption, correct?" Renee asks, looking between the two of us.

I nod, still too scared to speak. When I realize Bella has crawled back into her shell, I clear my throat. "We've been talking about adoption …"

I leave out the 'sort of' since we haven't actually pursued the discussion any further since the other night.

Nothing is set in stone. There's a baby, another life, and we want to do what's best for that life. So far, adoption seems like a good idea, but we don't really know what's best.

Renee nods carefully, sending me a half-smile. "This isn't a decision to take lightly." Her voice drops to a faint whisper as she looks to Bella. "We won't make you choose. It's your future … But I'm here, I'll help you with whatever you decide to do. This will affect you for the rest of your—"

" _He"_ _―_ the hand speaker jabs his thumb at me while glaring at his wife―"isn't the one who's going to have to suffer the consequences, Renee! He doesn't care—"

"That's not true," she argues, shaking her head vehemently. "Look at him, Charlie." She nods in my direction, holding his stare. "Do you really think he would be here, _with_ our daughter, right now if he didn't care?"

Charlie looks between Bella and Renee, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. After a moment, he looks at me with a fixated stare. "No."

"He needs to get home to his mother." Renee palms her cheek, pursing her lips. "She's probably worried sick …"

"It's oka―" I start to protest but stop when I realize Renee's probably right—my mom is worried sick.

"I'll take him home." Charlie starts to stand and I swallow down another squeal.

"No, I'll do it," Renee protests, shooting out of her chair. "It's a five-minute drive you can stay here and have a talk with your son about assaulting a minor, whose mother could very well press charges against him."

"She won't." I shake my head and get up from my chair. "I'll just walk home from here, it's only a few miles."

"Don't be ridiculous."

I feel a little more relaxed at the thought of Renee driving me home. I know Charlie won't hurt me. Sort of. I guess I have the fear stuck in my head since he hasn't had a 'little chat' with me, as he intended to do.

I can sympathize with him. I know he probably wants to kill me—I'd want to kill me. His daughter is sixteen, he barely knows me, and I pretty much ruined her life … in his eyes.

I think if I was him, I'd want to know the person responsible for potentially fucking up my daughter's future was at least decent enough to make her smile, and do the best he could to make it right.

It seems like the least I can do.

So I push aside my impractical fears, take a deep breath, and force myself to look the chief in the eye. "I'm going to be here for Bella, no matter what. I don't have a lot of money, but I'll figure out a way to help in whatever way I can."

Renee sends me a small smile,

Charlie huffs,

And …

Bella shoots out of her chair to throw up in one of her mother's ficus trees.


	21. May 16th, 2012 11:14 am

**A/N: Dee beta'd this bitch. HUGE thank you for reading, I know these updates are getting unpredictable.**

 **Also, I love you.**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **May 16th, 2012**

 **11:14 a.m.**

It's kind of awkward getting a lift from Bella's mom.

She's quiet throughout the ride. Both hands wrapped around the steering wheel, she spares me a few glances and remains expressionless until she turns down my street.

I don't expect her to say much, but I'm shocked as hell when she wraps her arms around me.

Smiling softly, the woman who gave Brightside a happy-healthy life hugs me like it's no big fucking deal.

Her hug is simple. Caring. And I don't know what I did to deserve it, but I accept it.

She tells me to call her if I need to talk, as if we could be buddies after everything that went down. She asks if I want her to come in and explain the situation to my mom, which maybe would've been a great idea if my mom were more like Carol Brady.

With my jaw slacked and my hand inching towards the door, I mumble a quick thanks and force myself to return a smile before I exit the vehicle.

Mid-morning sunlight temporarily blinds me as I turn towards the driveway, and Renee pulls off. The sun-spotted death machine is still sitting in the last place I left it, but I can't remember where I put my keys amidst my Brightside-induced panic attack.

Standing outside of my front door, I stare at the Welcome sign hanging on a crooked nail above. My heart beats faster as I think about what's waiting for me on the other side.

Maybe I can come home later?

Taking a step back, I grab a fistful of hair and try to think, think, think.

I can't do this.

What the hell am I going to say to her?

Do I tell her now?

No.

Do I LIE?

What if she already knows? What if someone at the hospital told her they know about Bella? What if some asshole just walked up to her and told her before I got the chance to?

My heart races.

Crap … Shit … FUCK.

Panic starts to dance in me. With a slow swirl, it swims up my chest and sends unlikely scenarios to my head. Nerves make me twitch, my breathing quickens as I take another step back.

I am in such deep shit.

I'm so negative sometimes, but I'm convinced that my freak-out is pretty fucking plausible.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I take deep, deep breaths.

Why didn't I write a letter or something?

Why didn't I memorize a freaking speech?

Fuck.

I need a minute.

I need a day.

I need a YEAR to tell her.

But by then, I won't really have a reason to, will I?

I take two trepid steps forward.

Taking a shaky breath, my hands twitching at my sides, I close my eyes and tell myself that everything is going okay.

"Please don't be mad."

Closing my hand into a fist, a soft knock on the glass window of the screen door and a step back is all it takes for me to change my mind, and my mom to reach the door.

I should have snuck in through the window, found my keys and took off.

No. I shouldn't have.

Because she is clearly distraught, red-faced and tear-stained. She's standing in front of me with a shocked look on her face, dressed in one of Dad's old tees and cutoff shorts.

And even though I was just ready to take off, I don't realize how much I really need my mom until now.

Relief floods features slowly, shoulders slouch and eyes blink once, twice, then rapidly. "Jesus, kid."

So quick that I don't get the chance to react, she steps forward and lets the screen door slam behind her. I jump as warm arms envelope, hug tightly, and panic dissipates.

Mom sobs and hugs me so hard that I can barely breathe.

"I know I'm a shitty mom, Edward, but you can't just run away from me like that." Words croak with cries, broken but so relieved. "You can't just leave and do whatever you want. You're still my baby. You're my world, kid. I know I suck at showing it, but I love you and you can't run away from me."

My face is digging into Dad's shirt, and I'm trying to pull away and hug back at the same time. Taking short breaths, Mom is sobbing, holding on to me for dear life, and I suck at timing.

Do I just say it?

I know I should tell her.

It's _killing_ me.

No … I should wait.

"Mom, Bella's pregnant."

Or not.

Sobbing stops. My eyes squeeze closed. Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I am one with dread as I feel her arms loosening.

Reopening my eyes, she has her hands on my shoulders and she's looking down at me with teary eyes and trembling lips.

She doesn't speak, doesn't reprehend or scold. Her silence kills me momentarily, and I wonder if this is it. My mom hates me. She's disgusted. She doesn't want anything to do with me.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she doesn't even look disappointed. Pale green eyes gloss and close, and I swallow down bitter prickling taste of panic welling in my mouth as a tear seeps from the corner of her eye.

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, I wait. And wait. And wait.

"Oh, baby." Muffling words into her hand, I try to think of something to say that would make this better.

 _We're going to give it up anyway, so don't freak out._

No.

I'm standing there watching my mom cry, and I don't really know what to say or do, so I just let this sink in for a minute.

One hand over my shoulder and the other her face, she looks back at me, confused and conflicted, but …

She isn't a coldhearted bitch. She's an alcoholic, not a monster. Sometimes she isn't herself, and she's a firm believer in tough-love, but she was never the person I depicted in my head. She was never mean or malicious, and she never really did anything to make me think she could be.

Slowly, so slowly that I think something's wrong, she lowers her hand over her heart.

"Is … is that why Bella took off?"

I nod once and her mouth falls open without words. She takes a step towards me and I flinch, like an idiot, until she wraps her arms around me.

"Oh, Edward."

My shoulders hunch, my heart opens up a little, and I'm not really so scared anymore.

"I am _so_ angry with you, Edward Anthony." She sniffles and hugs tighter, too tight.

I nod against her shoulder. _Understand that._

Her words are strained. "I am so pissed at you right now."

I nod again _. Get that, too._

"You are so grounded, it's not even funny."

I nod. _Didn't think it was._

"I'm sorry, Mom."

I feel her cheek brushing against my shoulder as she nods, squeezing me harder in her deadly tight hug.

"You are going to walk into that living room, sit down, and explain everything to me from start to finish. I will listen, and I will try not to yell at you until you're done. Are we clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mom does yell at me.

She's so pissed that I think I see the devil in her eyes a few times.

She cries a lot, and it makes my stomach knot up each time she looks at me with those red-rimmed eyes.

By the time I finish telling her about the first time I met Brightside, she's so angry that she screams into her hands. She asks me how I could be so stupid, and I sort of just shrug, like, _I dunno._

Because this is the woman who put me into this world, I don't leave anything out. I don't even have to think about telling her about how much I've been freaking out, it just slips out.

"I don't know what I'm doing." This is my mantra.

She takes my hand, shaking her head. "No one knows what they're doing. That's life. You're being too hard on yourself, Edward. You're sixteen, baby."

When I tell her about Alice's mom and dad, she gets quiet and just listens as I explain to her that I don't think adoption would be a bad idea, and Bella seems to agree. It hurts a little, but it might be what's best. For all of us.

She bites her lip, and doesn't have to say anything for me to tell she agrees.

And although Mom calls Bella a harlot ten times, by the time I'm finished explaining everything, she encourages me to let Brightside know that she can come to her with anything.

When her tears have run dry and her voice is sore from yelling, she hugs me one more time and holds my head in her hands.

I know she's on my side. I don't know how long she'll be mad at me, but she doesn't hate me.

My shoulders feel a little lighter when she kisses my hair and makes a comment about me needing a cut, and I know everything is going to be okay.

"I know it doesn't feel this way." Tired but compassionate eyes are looking back at me, willing me to listen. "It will work out, Edward. I know you're scared, but this isn't the end of the world. It feels that way, but it's not. Bella isn't alone, and neither are you. The baby will be okay, too. You'll see. Give it time, and keep your head up."

Looking back at my mom, I know I'm not alone.

I am sixteen, and I'm still so scared that I forget to breathe sometimes. I made the mistake of a lifetime with a girl who turned my whole world upside down with a simple, effortless smile. Everyone loves her, even my mom. I'm not alone, and neither is my brightside.

I _have_ to give it time.

I will.


	22. June 20th, 2012 10:00 pm

**A/N: Here's a sweet-ish shorty for you. Fran beta'd this one :)**

* * *

 **June 20th, 2012**

 **10:00 p.m.**

 _"This sucks."_

"It's not that bad," I argue, intent on disagreeing with her. "I'm talking to you."

 _"You didn't even have a party."_

"I got ungrounded. That was nice."

 _"You deserve the world for your birthday."_ That's a lie if I've ever heard one. _"What did you even do?"_

Bella wanted to come over for my birthday, but she's still in trouble for running off to Chicago last month.

That hasn't stopped me from seeing her, though.

I steal her early in the mornings when Charlie is off at work and Renee is fast asleep. I usually buy her a Yoo-Hoo and as I drive she tries to throw my papers for me. Nine times out of ten, she either throws too far, hits a garbage can, or it lands in a bird bath.

I still have my job, so … That's good.

I always make sure to get her back before her parents notice she's gone, but we're pushing our luck. I'm ninety-nine percent sure that Renee knows I take her daughter with me because I caught her mean-mugging me in the grocery store the other day. I thought she was serious at first—nearly pissed myself—until Bella walked up and Renee started laughing.

Still, I'm sure she knows.

This is a strange time in my life, but I need Bella like I need air. I can't wait for her punishment to end, I need her as much as she needs me. We help each other breathe a little better.

"Uh … Mom got me an ice cream cake. Emmett beat me in Mortal Kombat. It was fun."

 _"You won't watch TV, but you'll play Mortal Kombat?"_

"I love Mortal Kombat." That's an understatement if I've ever said one.

I'm stretched out on my bed with a package of Starbursts spread out on my stomach. I stack the yellows and the oranges together, a tower of candy that I'll probably never eat before Bella gets to it.

 _"Are you on the internet?"_

I stop stacking. "What?" I laugh, making my candy castle fall. "Yeah. Like I know the internet, Bella. Who doesn't?"

 _"Oh. Well, I know you're not on Facebook."_

Right. Facebook.

"My mom never bought a computer. Like, ever. I never really felt the need to ask her for one either. Emmett's on Facebook, though."

 _"I know. We're friends. That's why I was asking."_

"Oh." I feel stupid. Why don't I have a Facebook? I have a phone, with internet but I mostly just lurk around on Reddit, though.

It's at this moment that I realize, not only am I stupid, but extremely anti-social. It's no wonder I'm a walking panic attack.

 _"He keeps posting cat pictures on my wall. Your brother is weird."_

I snort a laugh. "Cat pictures?"

 _"Yeah, they're like photoshopped or something. One was a cat dribbling a basketball. What is he trying to do?"_

"It's probably Rosalie," I tell her. "She likes cats. Emmett's allergic. Which is why we've never had a cat. Or any other animal, for that matter."

 _"I had a kitten once. When I turned thirteen, Dad gave him to me as a birthday gift. Named him Mr. Meowgi, because that's an awesome name for an awesome cat. He stayed in my room, but I left my window open one day when I_ _went downstairs to get a drink. He jumped out, ran in front of a car,_ _and died. Like, on impact."_

I purse my lips. "That's so sad, Bella."

 _Please never tell me anything so depressing ever again._

 _"We had a funeral in my backyard."_ I hear her sigh softly. " _It was so sad, dude. I cried for like a year after that. Jasper offered to buy me another kitten, but … seriously? I screwed up bad_ _enough the first_ _time."_

"You were thirteen," I remind her. "It's not like you intentionally left the window open, either."

 _"Yeah, but … he was alive, you know? He had a little heart. And it just stopped beating, because I'm an idiot."_

She is killing me.

I shake my head vehemently, clutching the phone tighter in my right hand.

"Bella, are you really blaming yourself for an accident that happened almost four years ago? You were a kid. You're older now, more aware. You wouldn't let that happen again. You made a mistake and you learned from it. That's life. Everyone fucks up, but we move on, and we make more mistakes, and we learn from them." I clear my throat, pressing the phone closer to my cheek. "And how were you supposed to know he'd jump out the window? Mr. Meowgi is in kitty-heaven right now, he's in a better place, baby."

She's quiet for a moment. " _Listen to you. You sound like … an adult."_

I shake my head. "No. I'm building a Starburst castle right now. I'm pretty far from adulthood, but I'm getting there."

She laughs again. It's like music _. "How can I sulk when I'm on the phone with you?"_

"Just don't."

 _"I can't. Your voice is like butter."_

I laugh. Embarrassingly loud. "What the hell does that mean?"

 _"It's_ _smooth and_ _gets all melty and low. I get excited when I hear it. Your voice, not butter. But butter_ _makes a nice sound_ _too. And I get excited when I see butter too, so."_

She makes zero sense to me.

 _"Oh, and I can't sulk when I eat butter. That's what I meant."_

"Oh." I laugh again. "Uh. Okay. Thanks."

 _"Edward?"_

I stack an orange on top of a yellow and sigh. "Yes, Brightside?"

 _"I love you. Happy Birthday."_

Despite everything, I smile again.

"I love you, too."

* * *

 **A/N: I'll have the next one up as soon as possible, guys!**

 **I know, not a lot happened here. But these are short chapters, so. There's some cute ExB for you... despite the deceased Mr. Meowgi.**

 **Thank you for reading.**


	23. July 4th, 2012 8:15 pm

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **July 4th, 2012**

 **8:15 p.m.**

Bright reds, yellow-whites, and mixed shades of blues screech as they jet through the air, an explosion of colorful lights becoming a waterfall in the dark blue sky. Beside me, Emmett laughs and hugs his girl close to his side, and I stare at mine.

Twenty feet away, Brightside sits on a checkered picnic blanket, wedged between her mom and her brother; a bag of organic Teddy Grahams tucked between her legs. The wires connecting her earbuds are wrapped around her hand as she hums along to a song on her iPod, gazing back at me out of the corner of her eye.

It's the movement of her coral-colored lips that makes me smile without even trying. Turning her head to me slightly, she mouths, 'love you' before blushing and averting her eyes back to the fireworks show. It makes my heart hurt. I just want to run over there and steal her.

Yesterday she had an early doctor's appointment. I offered to come up as soon as I finished my route, but she kept telling me that she'd be fine with her mother there.

I wanted to be there.

I want to be there for everything, even if I just stand there like an idiot and hold Bella's hand the whole time.

"You should ask if she can come sit with us. I'm sure her mom won't mind. She seems cool." Rose brings her knees up to her chest as she leans back against Emmett. "She's been grounded for a long time."

Forever.

But that hasn't stopped me from seeing her.

Nothing can stop me from seeing her.

This is my best friend, and she always knows. She just does. She's carrying our consequence, our life. I know how she feels; we're one and the same.

I break the rules because she needs someone who knows.

Someone to make her smile.

Hug her.

Love her.

Maybe our parents know that.

Renee looks up and sees me staring at her daughter and I quickly turn back to Rose, feigning nonchalance. "She's with her family. That's rude."

Involuntarily, my eyes find her again. I don't even mean to look, I just do. My eyes always find her.

She's still as magnetic as ever to me, so convivial and mood-mollifying. Even with this dark cloud overhead, which seems to expand with time, she smiles like this and it makes all the anxiety disappear.

"She's our family, too," Emmett chimes beside me. "We love her."

Using the sleeve of my tee, I wipe at the beads of sweat pooling on my forehead as I look back at my brother. "You don't even know her."

"Neither did you," says Goldie Locks.

How can I argue with that?

Rose stares back at me with a widening smile, her eyes sparkling with sudden excitement. I open my mouth to ask her what the hell she's smiling about but stop as soon as my bones start to sizzle.

This happens sometimes.

When there's a shift in the atmosphere, I can feel it. It started happening a few months ago, and I'm getting better at detecting what it is.

A wavy, red-brown waterfall blocks my view of Rosalie. Soft arms wrap around my shoulders and hold tightly as lips press against the underside of my jaw, so quick that anyone watching would think this was just a hug. My heart double-beats, the corners of my lips curve up inevitably.

"Is this seat taken?" Soft, pretty voice, and so much nostalgia.

I look back into inviting, warm brown eyes and quickly grab onto her arm to pull her down onto my lap as gently as possible.

"Ah!" she half-screams, but no one can hear her over the screech of the fireworks.

I can hear my brother laughing as I tug the earbud from her left ear, smiling at the girl who changed everything in my simple, boring little life.

"You can't just sneak up on me like that. You scared me," I lie, placing my hands on her hips to move her off my lap. For a moment longer than usual, I keep my hands there, feeling how much wider they are since the last time.

 _The other life._

"You just throw anybody in your lap who scares you?" she asks with an amused smile, slipping the iPod into the back pocket of her denim shorts.

Smirking back at her, I lift her hand to my lips. It smells like grass and fake Teddy Grahams.

"Just you."

"Can you make Emmett kiss my hand?" Rose asks, pouting. I drop our connected hands back in the grass, unwilling to let go.

Emmett chortles as Bella rests her head on my shoulder.

"I'm not kissing your hand, that's gross. I just saw you pick a booger."

Rose opens and closes her mouth several times, eyes widening in disbelief. "I was itching it!" She flicks her wrist out to slap playfully his bicep.

I turn to Bella, who stares up at the sky as another firework shoots off into the air. Glassy brown eyes sparkle with reflecting, red lights.

"Can you stay here until the end of the show?" I ask, always eager and lacking patience. I want to know how much time I'll have with her. I want to make it count.

She smiles softly. "Actually, I was hoping I could stay with you until curfew."

Furrowing my brows at her, I twist my torso around to look at Renee Swan. She's still sitting where she was before, by her son, who is now cracking up laughing. She isn't laughing, though.

She's staring right back at me.

Two fingers pointing at her eyes, she slowly twists her hand to jab an index finger in my direction. It says, _'I'm watching you, motherfucker.'_

I wave back.

She smiles, turning back to the show to try and hide her smirk.

She gets it.

Understands us.

"I have to show you something," Bella announces at my side. "It's a little hard to see, but,"―she sits up on her knees, digging into the pockets of her shorts until she retrieves a folded piece of paper―"I got this yesterday. Do you want to see?"

I know what it is—pretty sure that I know what it is. I nod. "Yeah."

Unfolding the paper, Rose leans forward to try and see as Bella curls up to my side again. She looks up to me and smiles before handing it to me. "It's like a whole person now, Edward."

I can't really see anything. It looks like television static to me, but I can see it, the other life. It's there, on a piece of paper, beneath Brightside's name.

"Can you feel it?" I ask stupidly. "The baby, does it move?"

I have a lot of questions, but this is the stupid one that sticks out most to me. The other life is real, and it's stuck in Bella's stomach.

"Not really." She shakes her head. "I mean, I do. But it's not really scary the way I thought it would be. It feels like butterflies or something."

"Are you going to find out what the sex is?" Rose pipes in. "I mean, I know you don't really ..."

I look back at Bella, wondering the same thing.

Does she _want_ to know?

We haven't actually talked about the baby as much as we have about where we want it to go. From what we've seen, most couples looking to adopt aren't looking for a particular type of baby. I don't think they list off preferences, I think they just want one.

"Um ..." Bella takes a shaky breath and I hold her hand a little tighter. "Yeah, I mean … I'm going to find out anyway, right?"

"Can I see?" Rose points to the picture.

Bella nods, passing it to her.

"Looks like channel three," says Emmett, the great mind I think alike.

Bella turns to me. "Do you want to know?"

"If it's a boy or girl? I …" I nod, convinced that I really do want to know. It's not like we need another surprise. "Yeah. Why not?"

She touches the place where life grows, smiling slightly. "Yeah. It wouldn't hurt to know."

"How does this adoption thing work?" Rose asks as she moves away from Emmett. She gets down on her hands and knees, crawling through the grass to get closer to Bella. "Does the doctor find a family or something?"

"No." Bella and I talk over each other.

Her lips part as her brown eyes drift off. "Dr. Webber is helpful, but she doesn't have anything to do with adoption connection. She knows what we want to do, but she's more supportive than anything. We're supposed to pick out a family; basically look through these profiles of people looking to adopt."

This isn't news to me, but Rose is surprised.

"It's online? Don't you want to meet them?"

"Oh God, of course!" Bella widens her eyes at Rose. "We're supposed to build a relationship with the people we pick. We're going to learn about them; make sure they're not nut jobs."

"Isn't that the agency's job?" Emmett asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

I nod in his direction, still looking at my girl. "Yeah, but that doesn't really say much about who these people are. They mostly check their backgrounds for criminal records, work history … credit reports."

Rose snorts a laugh. "It's like buying a house."

Only they don't reimburse you for giving up your kid, and it's not a home we're giving away, it's a fucking life. Same thing.

Bella touches it again, looking contemplative as she purses her lips. "It's important to be thorough, but … I'm still a little hesitant about the whole concept of giving my baby to a stranger. We'll have, maybe, five months to learn everything we can about them if we even find a couple by the end of this month. I'm glad the adoption agency does background checks and things like that, but what does that say about these people in general?"

My anxiety goes from a four to a ten.

Just.

Like.

That.

"Oh man." Emmett shakes his head. "I don't know how you're doing this."

 _I don't know either_.

I think Bella changes her mind ten times a day.

I think she thinks this is crazy one second, and next it's the smart thing to do. At the end of the day, she still wants to give the other life a happy life. One we wouldn't be able to provide.

"Yeah." She sighs through puffed cheeks. "Me either."

 _Exactly what I mean._

I shake my head vehemently. "I'm coming to the next appointment. Schedule it later if you don't want me to miss work. I'm coming."

Bella rolls her eyes. "Edward, I don't need you to be there. You do enough just by talking to me."

 _Is she crazy?_

"Bella, shut up."

She smiles, bringing my hand to her mouth to mimic my earlier kiss. "Yes, sir."

"Come on." Rose stands up, tugging on Emmett's forearm. "I want to get closer."

"Closer? We already moved ten times." He's right, we have. Mostly it was me doing the complaining about our location. I wanted to get closer to Bella, so I could be a creep and watch her some more.

We watch them as they walk away, Bella with her head resting on my shoulder and me holding her hand. For a few moments, we sit in silence, breathing in the firework and dew scented air.

"Edward." Her voice is small, hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"I do feel it … The baby. It moves a lot now."

"Oh."

"Yeah … the first time I felt it was on your birthday. It was just a fluttery feeling."

I start picking grass from my shoes, breathing evenly.

"Oh." I let the word hang there, not really sure how to respond because the life we made is like a whole person now.

There are ears, lips, eyes, fingers, toes; a full heart in there. And Brightside can feel it.

"It doesn't hurt. It almost feels natural."

"Almost?"

I look up to see her staring at me with those wide, brown smile-givers. She gives me a small nod as the corners of her lips curve up with an almost-smile.

"Almost."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading/reviewing/favoriting/following. I love how much you guys love Brightside and Edward. You make me smile :)**


	24. July 12th, 2012 1:12 pm

**Thank you to Fran for making my words prettier.**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **July 12th, 2012**

 **1:12 p.m.**

"Do you hate me? I know you can pitch, man." Emmett tosses the ball back and I barely catch it.

I squint against the sun, wishing I could just leave and pick up Bella already.

"I'm not feeling it." I shake my head, using the back of my free hand to wipe the sweat from my forehead. "Can I go back inside now?"

I've been standing under the hot sun for the last two hours; I'm miserable. Emmett said he wanted to "throw the ball around", which I assumed meant fifteen minutes of tossing a baseball back and forth. I was wrong. He dragged me outback to pitch for him, and he's pissed that I can't throw anything over sixty.

I'm not an athlete, and I have no problem with that.

"You pitch like a girl, Ed," he taunts, as if I'd really care. "Are you even trying?"

Not really, and I don't even feel bad about it. I just want to go back inside, take a shower, and go pick up Bella so we can go to the movies tonight.

"It's hot," I complain, kicking the grass with my sneaker as I toss the ball back. It hits Emmett's shoe. "And I'm hungry."

Emmett laughs without humor, removing his baseball cap to wipe his own sweaty forehead. He looks around himself, and I try to figure out an excuse he would accept for me leaving.

"I know you're going away soon, and I'm really sad about that, but can't we just go smash mailboxes or something?"

He furrows his eyebrows, widening his arms at me. "When have we _ever_ done that?"

I shrug, cracking a smile. "Why _haven't_ we done that?"

He shakes his head, palming his cheek. "Is this a mental breakdown? Are you finally cracking up on me, bro?"

I roll my eyes, shrug my glove off and toss it to the grass. "I'm done playing."

"Uh …" I hear him call from behind me. "Wait! Let's talk about this, Ed!"

"Quit calling me that!" I shout over my shoulder, heading back towards the house. "I don't want to talk to you, I just want to chug a Gatorade and get my life together."

"That's why I brought you out here!" he yells after me. "Edward, come on, just one more. Make it count."

I stop in my tracks, looking over my shoulder to eye him skeptically.

"Just one?"

"One." He has a winning grin on his face as I walk back to my earlier position at the edge of the backyard. "But you have to make it count, bro. Don't hit me with a sissy pitch, I want you to put everything into it. And I mean _everything._ "

I suppress another eye roll, nodding lazily.

"Whatever, man, just throw the ball back already."

"I'm serious about getting your life together. This is good therapy, trust me. Just think about something that really stresses you out, or you can picture me as someone you want to hit—like that Jake Black fuck. There's this guy who was in Rose's chemistry class that I pictured—"

"Why would I picture Jake Black? He's my friend." That's a lie and a half, but whatever. It's not like I want to hurt him. I'm pretty much over the thing with Bella, it's not like he knew I was sort of falling in love with her. But he's been pretty much absent from my life since March, which isn't exactly a coincidence.

Jake Black doesn't make me angry.

Bella doesn't make me angry.

But still, I'm pissed.

I'm only seventeen, and I feel like I have a reason to be angry with somebody.

Or something

Or everything

Life isn't fair like that, so maybe I'm just pissed in general. Bella makes me happy … but I'm still a class A sulker.

"You know how to aim." Emmett nods, swinging his bat. "Let it out man, show me what you got."

"If you hit me again I'll kill you," I tell him, adjusting my footing. "I'm serious."

He smirks, shaking his head. "It's not my fault. Stop throwing like a girl. Dad taught you how to throw a ball when you were two."

I roll my head on my neck, trying to find my mojo.

"Today, sissy," he taunts.

I glare back at him, ready to aim the ball at his fucking face. He winks at me as I pull my arm back. Ready to hit him with another lazy swing, I feel the ball rolling up to my fingertips as I shift my weight towards my arm, and I let it all out.

I think about everything at once. Dad before he died, Mom taking up drinking after the car accident, Brightside telling me she feels the other life, and the last—channel three, and I throw, giving it my all.

Before I even realize what I've done, I hear a loud crashing sound.

Breaking glass.

I cringe immediately, squeezing my eyes closed as my mom starts yelling from inside the house. I hear my brother bust out laughing, and I open one eye to see him hunching over the air conditioning unit.

 _Crappppppp._

"I'm sorry, Mom!" I yell out to her, rubbing the back of my neck nervously.

Emmett stops laughing and shakes his head. "Oh, dude, that was fucking awesome. You're a dumbass, but that was awesome. I bet you feel better though, right?"

I nod, staring at the broken window.

Crazy thing?

"Yeah." I nod, feeling as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. "I do."


	25. July 29th, 2012 11:25 am

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **July 29th, 2012**

 **11:25 a.m.**

I don't hate much.

Maybe I don't really hate anything at all.

Hate is a very passionate emotion, and I'm not really sure I dislike the small things in life that much. I don't really hate scratched CDs or the sun-spotted death machine. I don't really hate kids around me who claim they didn't choose the thug life—the thug life chose them. It's not their fault they're hoosiers.

But from the bottom of my heart, I'm pretty sure that I hate hospitals.

I'm freaking out. I'm holding my pregnant girlfriend's hand while the doctor prints out a copy of the sonogram she just took, and I'm wondering if this is real life.

This is real, right? It seems real to me. Too real.

It started with a heartbeat.

The third life has a heartbeat, and it's so fucking fast that it terrifies me. It's kind of cool, but weird, and amazing, and I feel like I'm going to throw up because we're giving this baby a life …

 _With someone else._

I feel responsible, and it feels fucking awful. Who knew being smart could make you feel so stupid?

"You know," Renee speaks, breaking the silence. "I know this hurts, but think about what you're doing."

 _We are, but it still fucking hurts._

I can't imagine how Bella feels. She's carrying the life, she is one with it at the moment. Everything I feel, she feels. This is so much more for her. Our life is a part of her more than I will ever be capable of understanding, and I wish I knew how to make this better, but I don't.

So I'm just sitting here, holding her hand and feeling stupid.

That heartbeat is still in my head. Beating, beating, beating—it's _so_ fast. My baby's heartbeat is a fast tune, and I can't stop humming it in my head.

"It really does kind of looks like channel three," Bella says, out of the blue.

I turn to her and watch as she cracks a smile, one that isn't without effort.

Renee furrows her brows at her daughter, and I just stare at Brightside like she's lost her marbles.

"You know, like the fuzz on the TV when you're trying to hook up the HDMI cord." She looks to her mom, willing her to understand that crazy mind she possesses.

She laughs a little. The sound squeezes a smile out of my heart.

Of course, she laughs; this is the look-at-the-bright-side girl. Even though she knows what's going to happen, she's looking for the light in our situation. She always was. Except for maybe once. But even then, she was Miss Positive.

"I'm glad this is funny to you." Renee huffs, tucking a dirty blonde strand of hair behind her ear. "Here I was thinking you were sulking."

Bella bites onto a coral-colored bottom lip and sighs under her breath. "I'm trying not to."

I hold her hand a little tighter, because, honestly, I know she is.

"I thought it was funny," I interject.

Bella turns to me, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. "Then smile."

I do. Easily.

Because channel three is a boy, and I'm Mr. Brightside these days.

I kind of wonder if he's going to look like me. If he's going to have my eyes or Bella's … My hair or Bella's … My smile or Bella's.

I hope Bella's.

Oh God, please let it be Bella's.

I stare down at my cheap shoes as I hold Bella's hand, thinking that all of this is so screwed up, but it's all right at the same time. This sucks, but it's kind of awesome when I think about a boy with Brightside's eyes.

I'm mad, and then I'm relieved.

I'm happy, but then I'm sad.

I'm a mess, and then I'm okay. For her.

Palm-to-palm, I hold our hands up and shake them so I can get her attention. She looks to me and raises an eyebrow. "Hi."

I look over to the rounded area where life grows, and I think I want to throw another ball out back with Emmett.

"We don't have to do this, you know." I don't know why I say it; the words leave my mouth before I even realize what I did. I see Renee turns her head toward me out of my periphery. "We're not alone."

Bella stares back at me for a moment before she shakes her head, dropping her gaze back down to her stomach. "No. We do. I'm okay, I swear. It's just … real. I'll be fine, don't worry."

I shake my head, thinking that it's impossible. I can't just not worry.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asks, giving my hand a trying squeeze. "Are you still … _okay_ with this?"

I nod, swallowing back the bitter taste in my mouth. "I'm okay."

Renee stands up then, stepping over Bella and my feet. "I'll be back," she whispers in a brittle voice as she passes. "I'm going to find a restroom."

I turn back to Bella as she leaves. "I really am okay, I swear. I'm a little emotional, but just stick with me, okay?" She doesn't look up at me as she uses her free hand to wipe at her cheek.

"Bella, I'm not going anywhere." I sit up straighter and try to see her expression. "This sucks, but you have to talk to me. I know you can talk."

She nods, turning to flash me a misty-eyed smile. "I meant to tell you that I found someone in Port Angeles, a couple. They seemed like really good people in their profile, and they're not so far from home, you know?"

My chest feels tight with anxiety. "Someone to adopt channel three?"

"Yeah ..." she says. "Someone to adopt channel three."

* * *

 **A/N: Chapter 26 posts Friday. Frannie beta'd this. Fyrebyrd taught me dialogue tags. She also went back and edited my earlier chapters. She's amazing. If you're not reading Sharp Left Turn, you should. Check it out ;)**

 **Anons, can't do much about questions when I don't have info.**

 **Thank you lovely readers and reviewers. This is a tough subject, but I appreciate you hanging in there with them. Even if I made you cry. If you're waiting on Jilted: *leans in and whispers* it's coming. Patience.**


	26. August 1st, 2012 10:12 pm

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for the follows, favs, and reviews. Frannie betas. Fyrbyrd89 preread this, she's amazesauce :)**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **August 1** **st** **, 2012**

 **10:12 p.m.**

"I like your face."

"Thanks."

"You're very focused right now, Edward. You're very sexy when you're focused."

"I'll focus more often."

"Yes." Bella moans, and I can't hold back a smirk.

I scrub a hand through my long hair and toss the paper I'm holding to the ground. Its information Bella printed out about the couple in Port Angeles, but it's not enough.

"So Victoria is a lawyer, and her husband is an accountant. They've been married for fifteen years, and they've been trying to have a kid ever since. Doesn't it seem—"

"Too good to be true?" she interrupts. "Yeah, it's weird. I called the adoption connection place, and they've only been with the system for a year, which apparently isn't very long. They seem kind of cookie cutter, but we won't know that for sure until we meet them."

I shrug. "Why not just buy a baby then? They seem to have the money for it."

"Did you read anything about the adoption connection I sent you?" she asks. "You can't just _buy_ a baby. It's a process. These people have been trying to conceive for a long time, and it's not happening ..."

"I believe you." Bringing my knees up to my chest, I sigh aloud and push a hand through my hair again. "I just want to be sure that we're picking the right people."

"We _can't_ be sure," she whispers, looking straight ahead.

Brightside is three shades of blue tonight. She sits on the floor by my side at the end of my bed, wearing a pair of my navy sweats since she complained about her own clothes not fitting right. The baby blue tank top she's wearing clings to her skin, revealing every curve and crevice, and I easily find myself distracted by her boobs.

I'm typical-teenage-horny.

I drop my eyes down to her neon blue socks, the third shade of blue.

"My dad thinks they'll check out," she says, biting down on her bottom lip as she shakes her head. "But it's scary."

And just like that, I'm back to normal.

I clear my throat, snapping out of my boob-induced trance. "I'm sure they will ... maybe."

She looks at me through her long, dark lashes and nods. "I'm a little worried. What if they turn out to be psychos? What if these people are total baby mongers? What if this turns out to be a scam, and they sell our baby to some—"

"Oh God, stop." I shake my head, unable to fathom what else she's about to say. "Don't go there—you're overthinking this. But—" I stop myself before I say ' _what if they ARE baby mongers?'_

No.

Just no.

I shake my head.

 _That's crazy talk, Cullen._

I bury my head between my knees and groan aloud in frustration.

 _Not helping._

I freeze up as I feel warm, pillowy lips press against the exposed skin at the back of my neck. Feeling my shoulders slouch, all the tension melts away as pacifying warmth settles in my chest. Twisting my head back slowly, I look at the slightly upturned corners of her lips and relax.

I don't know much about love, but I think it has a lot to do with hope, and she's filled with it.

She pushes herself up on her knees to give me her lips, smiling when I lean in to kiss her. "It'll be all right," she tells me, pulling back an inch. "We just have to be careful. Channel three is our world, we won't let him go to just anybody."

I smirk back at her, loving the fact that she's calling him channel three. "No, we won't."

She sighs, curling her bottom lip over her teeth.

"What's wrong?" I stretch my legs out and turn to face her.

She shakes her head. "It's stupid."

"Tell me," I push. I need to know what she's thinking. I always need to know.

She sighs through pursed lips, tucking a wavy strand of red-brown hair behind her ear. "Heidi messaged me the other day. She said that the whole school knows I'm pregnant, and I should think about transferring because I'm going to get a lot of flak for sleeping with Edward Cullen a few hours after meeting him." She rolls her eyes and places her hand over the bump. "I asked her how they would know that, and she didn't have an answer. I unfriended her on Facebook, but it seems kind of stupid now that I think about it. I mean, we're supposed to be family, but she's apparently telling everyone my business."

I stare at her, my mouth opening and closing.

I don't consider myself a violent person, but I'm thinking about asking Rosalie to punch Heidi in her face.

"Some friend," I mutter through clenched teeth.

"She's not, though." Bella laughs without humor, shaking her head in disbelief. "I never really knew her until I moved here. We always sort of talked through social media, but she never really pretended to be a friend to me until a few months ago. She invited me to come to Jake's party. She ditched me, obviously, which wasn't a big deal at the time because … you know, I met you."

I smile through my anger.

She rubs the bump, looking contemplative as she turns to me. "At least I won't have to cheer next school year." Brightside smiles because she found the light in her latest predicament. "That's good."

I start picking at the blue rug on my floor. "Your cousin is a bitch."

 _I mean … it's the truth._

I think about how much I freaked when she left for Chicago, and it's all because of Heidi. It really is all because of Heidi that she left in the first place, Bella couldn't have gotten there on her own. Maybe I would've had more time to convince her to stay if Heidi hadn't helped her, I could've convinced her to stay.

I don't know what Heidi was thinking when she helped Bella, but I wonder if she knew Bella would get in trouble for it. I wonder if she knew that Bella was leaving to see Alice, or if she thought it was to run away from me.

But … would I have met Brightside if it weren't for Heidi being a selfish bitch?

"Unfortunately she is." She checks her phone and sighs disappointedly. "I have to go home. My dad doesn't want me staying over here longer than necessary."

I still haven't talked to Charlie since the last time he almost lost his shit, but I think he's starting to forgive me. He's letting Bella come to my house now, and she can go out with me sometimes, which I guess is a good thing. He appreciates me going after Bella when she ran to Chicago—isn't too keen on the part where I knocked her up.

"I'm happy you can come over now," I whisper, wishing I knew how to sound more appreciative and less like a mouse. "I missed your face."

She smiles too, a laugh threatening to escape. "I missed your face, too."

I stand and grab her hands to help her from the floor. After hoisting her up, she sends me a smile and stands on her tippy toes to peck me on the lips. I have to crane my neck because she's short and the other life is kind of starting to get in the way.

I kiss her chastely, short and simple. I have so much on my mind, but I missed her and these lips just as much.

Resting my forehead against hers, I breathe evenly. She has her arms around my shoulders, hugging me tightly. I can feel the bump between us, bigger than the last time I hugged her like this.

I don't know how I feel about it; just that it calls to my attention. I'm always aware of it. There's a baby boy in there, and it's a part of me and Bella. She's right, he's my world right now. That's why we're doing this. For him.

We're giving him a new beginning.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading.**

 **I will be posting a teaser for Monday's chapter in Frannie's Facebook group "pay it forward". If you want in, just come on over and ask to join.**


	27. August 10th, 2012 11:24 am

**A/N: Thank you so much for the follows, favorites, reviews. I love hearing your thoughts on this.** **Huge thank you to the eyes of fyrebyrd89 and Frannie, for catching my big whoopsies and dealing with my indecisive-self. I love all of you and I'm sorry for making you sad. I don't live off the tears of my readers, I swear. I'll see you guys Friday.**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **August 10** **th** **, 2012**

 **11:24 a.m.**

"We've done this a few times before, so we're a little nervous," Victoria says in a shaky voice. "Well, I am anyway. I can't say the same for silent guy over here … By the way, you can call me Vic, and my husband, James, goes by Jim. Do you go by any nicknames?"

Renee and Bella try to talk at the same time, but I beat them to it. "We're just Edward and Bella."

They don't get to call her Brightside. That's _my_ thing.

"Just Edward and Just Bella. Got it." Jim smirks, dragging a hand through his groomed hair. His wife, seated next to him on the couch, sighs out in relief, but none of us can really seem to relax.

Victoria is shorter than Pixie-Rainbow-Girl in Chicago. She's dressed like a woman I saw in a Dillard's catalog once. Her husband is dressed similarly; khakis, dress shirt, nice shoes and clean-cut hair.

I wonder if Jim and Vic wear slacks to bed.

I'm not really nervous, but I don't think I'm as bad as Bella or Renee right now. In a roomful of nervous people, I almost feel at ease with knowing Vic and Jim aren't trying to sell themselves to us. They want our baby, and they don't want to mess this up. It means they care.

They have a comfortable brownstone home just outside of Port Angeles. It's isolated, but not so far from town that they couldn't get help if needed. The forest is their backyard, and I keep thinking that there's enough room here for the athlete in Bella's womb to run free … and get lost.

These are the things we have to think about: Would the baby be safe here?

"Um …" Bella clears her throat, and I turn to see her moving to the edge of her seat on the couch beside me. "You said you've done this a few times before?"

Vic's lips part and close, part, and close, before she looks to her husband. "We have," she admits, turning back to us. "With two other girls."

"Oh," Bella whispers. "Excuse me if I'm stepping over the line here, but … do you know why they never called back?"

"Oh, both of them called back," Jim speaks up, his voice cracking. He clears his throat and shakes his head. "One of them even signed the papers."

Bella's eyebrows knit together.

I look to them questioningly, my curiosity getting the best of me.

 _What happened?_

Vic has a tight, timid smile. "In Iowa, you have up to a week to change your mind about adoption."

"So you moved here," Renee concludes, tilting her head to us. "They don't have any time to change their minds here, once she signs the papers."

"No, we moved here to get closer to Victoria's family," Jim informs us, reaching over to rub his wife's shoulder. "We met at Clarke. I'm from Iowa, but Victoria's family actually lives here in Washington. We aren't trying to get an attorney involved."

"I'm the only lawyer here, and I'm not an adoption attorney." Vic looks between the three of us. "We really would like to get to know you better before we discuss any legal technicalities. We know how difficult this decision is, and we want you to know that we're open to anything. If you want a closed adoption, or semi-open, or a completely open adoption, we're up for anything."

"I'm still a little confused," Renee mutters, shaking her head. "I mean, why not involve an attorney now?"

Vic releases a soft sigh. "We know how intimidating it can seem, and we don't want to make that worse by involving a lawyer in this quite yet. This decision is completely up to you, and we wouldn't ask for you to sign anything until we knew you well enough to tell that this is going to be … legitimate." She looks to Bella. "You might find yourself changing your mind, Bella. I don't want to take that right away from you. We want a baby who _belongs_ to us, and it won't mean the same with a mother out there missing him. He is a boy, right?"

Bella has a small smile. "How'd you know?"

"It was just a guess. My sister has six kids." She scoffs and smiles, seeming contemplative. "You can usually tell, though. A boy …"

"Is that okay?" Brightside raises a brow. "I mean we could always go back and try again, but I can't guarantee anything."

Renee scowls at her daughter, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at her dry joke, all the while turning red from embarrassment.

It's a little awkward. Everyone knows we've had sex. Jim knows that at one point, definitely around five months ago, I was the dumbass who forgot a fucking condom. He's looking as though he feels sorry for me about that.

"Oh my goodness, no!" Vic exclaims through a laugh. "We don't have a preference, although I think Jim is secretly hoping for a boy."

Jim laughs, giving his shoulders a slight shrug. "What man doesn't want a boy?"

I drop my eyes to the floor, taking a deep breath.

"Uh … actually, Edward and I wrote down some questions we'd like to ask," Bella announces at my side. "If that's okay …"

"Of course," Vic says in a small voice.

"You don't have to answer them now, we'd actually prefer if you thought about these first …" Bella sighs through puffed cheeks as she digs into her shoulder bag for the list. It was Bella's idea, although we were up throughout last night writing all of our concerns out on paper. We didn't want to risk not having our questions answered. There were too many.

"So you can just read these later if you want." She leaves my side to hand the folded piece of paper to Victoria.

"Oh—okay." She nods, taking the paper from Bella. She cracks a smile and sets the sheet on her lap. "Absolutely. I'm actually flattered by the effort you're making to get to know us."

Bella takes a seat next to me again.

"These kids have hearts of gold," Renee tells them, sending me a wink over her shoulder. "They want to be as thorough as possible."

Vic and Renee start talking about the rarity of kids with good intentions, and Jim compliments my _Cold War Kids_ shirt. He tells me that I have good taste, and I find it kind of hard not to like him after that.

I turn to check on Bella and feel my face fall when I see her unfocused eyes. She's deep in thought, biting onto her lip as her eyes travel around the room aimlessly. I feel like I've seen this look before.

 _Doubt._

I've known her for five months, but I've spent each moment learning her every expression. I wish I could say that I can read her like a book, but I've only seen her like this once before.

Vic and Jim ask if we want anything to drink. I decline, and Renee asks for a water purified by reverse osmosis, because everyone knows what that means. It's basically just bottled water, but the baking soda fanatic only knows scientific terms that even confuse lawyers.

Bella's head snaps up when Jim asks her a second time. "Oh," she laughs nervously. "Um … water is good."

"Reverse osmosis with that?" he jokes, and I'm surprised when Renee laughs. She usually takes this seriously. One time she sat me down for an hour just to explain the importance of drinking purified water because the radiation levels in our town's water supply have skyrocketed over the last three years.

I don't drink tap water anymore.

"Yeah." She laughs. It sounds soft, like unease.

As soon as Jim and Vic are gone, I turn to her.

"I think we should leave."

Renee snaps her head to me, but doesn't say anything. She looks from me to her daughter and back.

"What?" Bella asks, her eyebrows pushing together to create a crease on her forehead. " _Why_? Because Jim said those things about those girls changing their minds?"

"No," I protest, shaking my head. "This isn't about Jim, Bella. This is about you."

She continues to shake her head. "I told you I'm ok—"

"Stop telling me that you're okay!" I snap my mouth closed as soon as I yell at her, realizing that I just lost my temper with the girl who made everything a little brighter.

She stands up from the couch and turns to me. "You don't have any idea how hard this is for me, do you? Do you think anyone really _wants_ to give their baby away, Edward? I'm sorry if I'm not jumping for joy at the thought of giving away the life that you and I made, it's a little fucking hard for me."

" _Bella_ ," Renee whispers, her eyes widening.

Swallowing the sour taste in my mouth, I shake my head vehemently. "Then why would you tell me that you're okay, Bella?"

Fist balled at her sides, Bella looks at me through furious, tear-welled eyes.

"Because I _am._ " Her voice strains, and I feel my chest tighten.

I breathe through my nose and clench my teeth, glancing up at the ceiling. I wish I could know what she's thinking. Just this once, I want inside her head. Just to know that she's telling the truth.

Doubt has never seemed so all-consuming.

Breathing deeply, I close my eyes momentarily and tell myself something I think my father would say.

 _Patience. Patience is better … He'd say something about fucking patience._

I open my eyes again. Bella has her hands shoved in the pocket of the hoodie she has on. Staring down at the floor through wet lashes, she licks her lips and wipes her cheek with the sleeve of my jacket.

"I'm not changing my mind," she whispers, unable to meet my eyes. "I just want to do what's best for everybody."

I nod, but I don't know if I believe her anymore.

Doubt is telling me: _What if we can't do what's best for everybody?_

"Honey …" Renee shakes her head, her eyes narrowed but filled with concern. "No one is asking you to do what's best for everybody. You should do what's best for _you_."

I take one more deep breath and push myself off of the couch.

"Bella … I'm sorry." Wrapping my arms around her, I relax as her body presses against mine. I press my nose to the crook of her neck, inhaling lavender-and-French-vanilla hair scents. I listen to the muffled sound of her breathing into my shirted shoulder. Her warmth melts cold tension and doubt ebbs when she takes fistfuls of my shirt, holding me closer to her. "I know this is hard for you. I'm sorry. I wish I could make this easier."

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Edward," she whispers, her voice cracking. "I feel like I'm going crazy. It's not your fault, I just ..."

I pull back and hold her face in my hands. "You're not going crazy. You're okay, it's okay."

That's all I'm really certain of.

Renee stands from the couch and walks over to us. She places her hand on Bella's shoulder, looking worriedly between me and her daughter. Bella pulls away, looks at her mom and quickly wipes at her cheek. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"Baby …" Renee reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Bella's ear. "You are so vulnerable to everything you're feeling right now, but no one is forcing you to do anything. You know that, right?"

Bella looks to Renee and wipes raw cheeks again, sniffling through the sleeve of her shirt.

"Yeah," she breathes, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I don't want to leave. I want this … I like Victoria, and Jim has great hair."

"Okay," Renee whispers. She nods, pushing Bella's bangs away from her face. After a moment, she seems to accept her answer.

She continues to nod, cracking a smile. "He does have good hair."

I roll my eyes, stepping back as I hear Jim and Victoria reenter the room. They hand us bottles of water approved by Renee. I take Bella's hand again before we sit on the couch together.

She sighs, looking at our entwined hands as Vic and Jim tell us about the first time they met, but I'm not listening. I'm looking at her and wishing that I could just know what she's thinking.

She meets my eyes and curves the corners of her lips as she gives my hand a light squeeze. It tells me that she's okay, but it's not enough. I don't know what to do … so I hold her hand, because okay has to be enough. It is what it is, even if I don't know what 'it' is anymore.

I take a deep breath, turning my attention back to Vic and Jim.

I don't let go of her hand until we get in the car to drive back to Forks.


	28. August 16th, 2012 10:32 am

**A/N: hello guys! How are you? I posted a pic of channel three in Pay it Forward, a group by my beta, Frannie Flower. If you want in, let me or her know. I, and quite a few others, post exclusive teasers in there, and it's a great place to get recs! Thanks to Fyrbyrd89, my lovely beta-sister, for pre-reading this.**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **August 16th, 2012**

 **10:32 a.m.**

It's ridiculously hard to say goodbye to my brother.

I know it's selfish, but I really wish he would stay. I really want him to forget about college and stay home, but I also know that Emmett won't be truly happy until he's long gone.

He once told me that people who stay here after high school usually end up staying forever. This town's a trap, and people like my mom will always be stuck in it. I don't want to think that this will be my mom's life for the rest of forever, but a part of me believes that maybe he's right.

I don't think it's the town we live in, I think it's the memories. What happens here sticks with you—it's like a disease. There's only so much a person can take, and maybe that's what drove my mother to start drinking. She could never move on. It's just a theory, but maybe I'm not entirely wrong. Maybe some people can move on.

"Do me a favor?" Emmett asks me as he shoves the last bag in the back seat of his car.

Squinting against the blazing sun, I cup my hand around my eyes and respond with a wary nod.

"Don't break any windows while I'm gone." He winks.

I flip him off, but I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"Who the fuck do I pitch to now?" I joke, but it sounds more aggressive than I intend it to.

"Uh ..." He tilts his head to the lawn. To her.

The girlfriend stands in the grass barefoot; sipping on a fountain soda she picked up on the way over here. Her wavy hair is more red than brown today, sun-shiny, unkempt, and beautiful as always.  
She glances up from her drink and half-smiles at me, just as sad about Emmett and Rosalie's departure as I am.

"Uh, I don't think she wants to play baseball, dude," I joke though I don't think that's what he was suggesting.

Emmett scoffs, rolling his eyes. "No, I meant that you should open up to her. You can call me whenever, but Sunshine is your girl. Talk to her, you know? You stress out too much, it's not good for you."

I give him a one-shouldered shrug. "I don't think I'm stressing."

He purses his lips thoughtfully. "You're happier than you were, I'll give you that. You were killing me with that emo phase. Thought I was going to strangle you."

I point to myself, shaking my head. "Emo? When was I emo?"

He smirks knowingly, like 'come on'. "You were depressed, man … I know you probably don't realize it, but before her"—he jabs his thumb towards the lawn—"you were going through something. It was only a matter of time before Mom sent you to a shrink."

I feel my eyebrows push together, taken aback by this new information. "Uh … What?"

He shrugs, pursing his lips. "Maybe she wouldn't have, but something had to happen. Your grades, your attitude, staying out late **...** she started getting worried."

I open my mouth, ready to defend myself, but shut it just as quickly.

I realize then that Emmett's right. There were a few times Mom tried to talk to me, but I always shut her out.

I shut everyone out.

Until Bella.

 _Depressed_ , though?

"Hey, don't overthink it. All I'm saying is: don't stop talking to Bella. Let her know what's going on in that head of yours. You have so much happening, and I'm sure the adoption thing isn't easy on either of you guys. You just let all this shit get to your head and you start worrying too much. I get it, I do the same thing. But you gotta talk it out, man."

That's an understatement.

"Isn't easy," would be putting it mildly. It makes Bella sad that she's giving up a baby she and I made. It freaks _me_ out that we're actually giving him up to strangers.

Vic and Jim aren't exactly strangers to us anymore. We're pretty sure they're not baby mongers, but I'm still a little paranoid by the concept. I read a few stories on Reddit about people giving up their child for open adoptions, only for the adoptive parents to go missing off the face of the earth after the papers were signed.

I shudder at the thought.

"I will," I promise, clearing my throat. "I mean, we talk all the time. It just ... gets tense, quick."

Bella gets defensive about the baby. She thinks I'm accusing her of not being sure about the adoption, but I'm almost sure she isn't.

No one ever is, though.

I also learned this from the internet; most women change their minds constantly. There's so much doubt that comes with placing your baby up for adoption.

"Keep calm," he says, shrugging. "I don't know if I would be as calm on the outside as you are, Edward."

I feel my head nodding as he walks over to me. Clearing my throat, I reply in a throaty whisper, "I will."

I hug Emmett three times, each one seemingly longer than the last. I really wish he could stay, but he won't be happy until he and Rose are free birds—flying far from town and doing their own thing.

Rosalie hugs Bella for a long time. They cry, and it almost makes me choke up a little too. I'll miss Rose, even if she's annoying and has no concept of personal space.

When she gets to me, she smiles and ducks her head as she reaches around her torso to pull her cross-body bag around. "I'm not a stalker, I swear."

Confused, I furrow my brows as she digs into her bag for something. She pulls out a small picture and holds it out to me.

"Uh ..." I hold my hands out, ready to reject whatever weird gift she's about to give me. Every time Rose has a gift for me, it's something stupid, like a gum wrapper or a picture of Emmett's nose. Which, yeah, she gives me often.

"Just take it," she urges, shoving the picture to my chest. I take it from her and she waves a dismissive hand. "The camera went off at the wrong time."

I nod. I'm sure it did.

"Can I hug you now?" she asks.

I nod again.

"Will you freak out?"

I shake my head.

She grins and steps forward, wrapping her arms around mine to hug me tightly. "I love you, Eddie boy."

I frown, sad that she's actually leaving. "I love you too, punk."

She whispers that she left the last of her stash in my bedroom and I roll my eyes. Pulling back, she holds two fingers up to sign _peace_. "Toke up, brother."

I snort loudly. "Uh—"

I'm cut off by a loud sob. I turn toward the noise and see my mom hugging Emmett's burly shoulders, her head buried in his chest.

"My baby is going to college!" she wails, stepping back to wipe her face. Bella walks over to Mom and offers her a napkin she had wrapped around her soda. She smiles, teary-eyed, and takes it from her. "Thanks, baby."

Brightside nods and takes sluggish steps in my direction. When she finally reaches me, she stretches up and pinches me on my cheek, forcing me to smile. "You okay?"

I nod as she shoves her arms under mine and rests her head on my chest. I feel the bump push against my pelvis and sigh through my nose. "I'm okay. What about you?"

Bella's brother left for Chicago last week, and I was sort of depressed about that, too. I'm not sure if the long-distance brolationship thing works out or not. I hope so, because I'm already missing Jasper and Emmett.

"I'm good," she chimes, flashing me a warm smile. "I'm really going to miss them, though. You have an amazing family, Edward."

"I do," I agree with her. We're a little messed up at times, but they really are amazing. I guess I didn't really appreciate them much until I realized how accepting they could be. Most of all, my mother.

It wasn't that she never accepted me before, I just hadn't really given her a chance to. There's so much I actually tell my mother now that I wouldn't a few months ago.

Rose blows Bella twenty kisses as she gets in the driver's seat, and Emmett has to convince Mom he'll call her every day and let her know he's safe before she lets go. I watch as he gets in the car, already missing him as he starts hollering about college and parties.

"Oh boy," Mom mutters through a sigh, watching her son pull off. "My baby is leaving ..."

"He'll be back, Es," Bella quips over her shoulder. "Soon. For holidays and stuff."

"Ugh," Mom groans, dropping her hands to her side. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you kids here. You make me feel young. I'll have to pick up shifts at the hospital or something to distract myself."

Bella's face brightens up, her shoulders squaring. "You know what you need?"

Mom eyes the girlfriend warily.

Bella has a classic mischievous smile. "You need a man."

Mom scoffs immediately, and I feel my eyes grow wide.

"How about not?" I blurt, but Bella doesn't listen to me. She walks over to my mom's side, grinning widely.

"Come on, Es ..." She sways, rubbing Mom's shoulder. "It'll be good for you to go on a date. We can set you up with some stud online."

"No!" I shake my head vehemently. "Absolutely not—"

"It doesn't have to be on the internet, Edward." She rolls her eyes at me and turns back to Mom. "Have you thought about dating at all? It could be fun."

Judging by her expression, she hasn't. "Oh sweetheart," Mom mumbles, shaking her head. "I'm too old for that, and I could never ..."

I realize then that my mom really hasn't dated anyone since my dad died. The only men in her life have been me and Emmett. She hasn't really been social, either. She only speaks to my aunt from time to time, but for the most part, it's been just us.

Bella is right. This could be good for her.

"I'm not saying that you should just throw yourself at anyone, but I'm sure there's someone out there for you." Bella purses her lips thoughtfully, her eyebrows drawing together as she watches Mom. "You can always just go on one date, and see if you like it. And I'm sure Carlisle wouldn't mind. He'd want you to be happy."

I can hardly believe the words as they escape my mouth. "She's right, Mom. Dad would want you to be happy."

Mom snaps her head to me, her eyes wild with shock. "I-I..." she stutters momentarily, closing her eyes as she shakes her head. She takes a deep breath and reopens her eyes, giving Bella a timid smile. "I'll think about it."

Her eyes flick to me and I force myself to smile, giving her an encouraging nod. "You should."

She crosses her arms and tilts her head to the side. "No one could ever replace your father."

I nod.

I know that.

"It's so hard for me to think about, but I'll consider it."

I nod again.

Know that, too.

"Yes!" Bella pumps her first in the air. "Oh, and can I do your hair, too?"

Mom laughs, nodding. "Yes, sweet pea, you can fix my hair."

Bella lets out a squeal, clapping. I feel my eyebrows push together, amused that she finds this so exciting. I guess it's a chick thing?

Mom goes back inside, and Bella has a victorious smile, as if she feels like she's done her good deed for the day. She returns to my side and I make a comment about her lack of footwear.

"My feet hurt," she complains, shrugging. "What's that? In your hand."

I feel my face fall when I realize I'm still holding the picture Rose handed me before she left. I lift it to my eyes to examine it and nearly drop it as soon as I do.

It's a picture of me and Brightside on March 16th. I'm not looking at the camera, and neither is she—but we're both smiling at each other. We look awkward, a little drunk, and slap-happy.

"Is that us?!" Bella exclaims. "What the hell?"

I laugh in disbelief, shaking my head. "She's a stalker."

"A good one," she agrees. "It looks professional. Who knew drunk people could be so beautiful?"

I smirk but don't say anything.

I turn the picture over and discover a note on the back, written in sloppy cursive letters.

 _E,  
You have a nice smile. I didn't think I was going to see it again, so I thought I'd take this just in case. Turns out, I didn't need it.  
XoXo Rose  
P.S. I'm not a real photographer.  
P.P.S. Bella is a really cool girl and I love her. Please don't ever break up.  
P.P.P.S. I kind of love photography and the fake photography club was legit._

 _Love you!_

* * *

 **A/N: *sigh* so we said goodbye to Em/Rose this chapter, its the last we'll see of them for a while :( I will post a pic and teaser for the next chapter tomorrow in Pay it Forward. Thank you for reading!**


	29. August 25th, 2012 8:25 pm

**A/N: Happy Monday! How are you? Longer chapter than usual, but you'll see :)**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **August 25th, 2012**

 **8:25 p.m.**

I'm between Bella's legs for the first time in months, and it's not exactly how I pictured it. The top half of my chest is hovering over her stomach and my face is leveled with her belly button. I'm breathing in lavender and other strange smells, and my chest feels all tight and splintery inside. It's a level of anxiety I'm not familiar with.

The good kind.

"It's so creepy." She laughs as she pushes against her stomach, and the life moves again. "He's always moving. Talk to him again, he'll kick."

I am somewhat amazed. This has been my life for the last half-hour. I am staring down at the place where life turns, kicks and grows, and it is so bizarre to me that channel three is actually moving around in there. I can feel him turning, a hardened object shifting beneath Bella's skin.

Weird.

"How often does he do this?" I don't hesitate to push my fingers deeper, trying to feel him a little closer. "It looks brutal. I'm waiting for a hand to shoot out and grab me."

I know we probably shouldn't be doing this. We shouldn't attach ourselves to the other life, but he's our world. It seems like he's all we have to look forward to these days. This is amusing to me, but somewhere in the back of my mind I'm conscious of the pull I already have to him.

There has to be a limit, I'm aware of this. I can't just bond with my unborn son and let him go. I can't keep doing this— _we_ can't keep doing this if we're giving him up.

And although I find it incredibly fascinating, I also know that there's this dull ache inside my chest that I seldom pay any attention. It's expanding and becoming more unavoidable, and the more I want to learn about channel three, the more I feel compelled to pull away.

Because it's the right thing to do.

Bella's laugh shakes my small twin bed. "Oh my god, stop. You're freaking me out."

"Sorry," I mumble, rubbing a hand over her smooth and hardened skin. He gives me another kick and I feel my lips pull up with a smile. "Is it normal, though, right? He's moving so much."

"Mom says it's normal. I thought something was wrong the other day, he wouldn't stop moving." She reaches down to run her fingers through my hair. "I can't believe you chopped off all your hair."

"Wait, what?" I pull back until she drops her hand. "You thought something was wrong and you didn't think to tell me sooner?"

She opens her mouth but doesn't come up with an immediate response. She stares back at me, her eyebrows pushing together with confusion.

"What if something was really wrong, Bella?" I continue. I sit back on my heels and shake my head. "Would you tell me then—if you ended up in the hospital or something? Or would I have to find out from Heidi?"

"N-No!" she chokes out, propping up on her elbows to level her gaze at me. I clench my jaw, waiting for her. "E … Edward, it wasn't even a big deal."

"But you were obviously worried enough to ask your mother," I reiterate, shaking my head. "Am I even going to know when you go into labor or are you just going to show up to school one day not pregnant? Really, I want to know."

Her mouth gapes, large brown eyes widening in disbelief.

"Are you serious? It wasn't even that big a deal, Edward!" Her eyes gloss with tears. "I just felt weird and I asked my mom a question, it didn't even have anything to do with you!"

I don't even flinch at the stridency of her tone. I continue to shake my head.

"It does, though, Bella. I'm not asking you to report every single detail of your life back to me; I just want you to tell me things that matter. I mean, you had no problem telling me what you had for breakfast this morning, but you couldn't tell me something like this—something that matters."

Her eyes turn small with incredulity. "Because it doesn't!"

"Yes, it does." I can feel my voice raising a couple octaves, but I don't care. "You never tell me about this stuff, it's like you just want to do this on your own. You don't tell me when you're worried. You never tell me if you're sad, or scared, and I really—really—hate not knowing what you're thinking, Bella. You always tell me that you're okay, and I let it go because you smile like nothing is wrong, but you're telling me bullshit as if you think I wouldn't care."

I snap my mouth closed and stare at her, waiting for her to respond.

She looks back at me with her jaw hanging open, her eyes slightly glossed and her cheeks tinged pink. I can tell she's hurt for some reason, but I fail to see the significance in that. I was only being honest.

"Um …" she whispers, her voice cracking. "I ... I never meant to make you feel that way, I swear. But Edward, I ... you never tell me what you're thinking either."

I feel my face fall. "That's different."

"It's not." She pushes on her elbows until she's sitting. Shaking her head, she waves a finger between us. "It's a two-way street. Don't expect me to tell you shit if you don't do the same for me. And I know you care, I just didn't want to make a big deal out of it. I don't want you to have to think about it."

I breathe through my nose and try not to seem angry with her. It's not as though she's wrong. We really do talk so much, but we always seem to forget about the important things ... the things that matter.

"But I _want_ to, though ... I think about you all the time," I tell her, wanting to look away but also wishing that I could stare into her brown eyes all night without it being weird. "You don't even realize how much I care about you, Bella. You make me happy; I feel like I'm a kid at an amusement park every time I'm with you. Maybe that's a weird comparison, but I get that feeling and I worry that it's going to go away. Like, one day, you'll just disappear, and I won't know what do with myself."

She gazes back at me with wide, shining eyes. All earlier anger disappeared. "You're for real right now?"

I nod. "I'll always worry about you, Brightside. You're, like, everything to me."

The corners of her lips twist up with a small smile. "You're like everything to me too." She touches my cheek and holds her soft smile, brown eyes dancing between mine.

I know we're getting distracted, and I'm still a little ticked off, but it doesn't really matter for a short moment.

Dropping her hands to her abdomen, she brushes her fingers along the place where life grows, her coral lips twitching with distress. She bites her bottom lip and nods carefully.

"But it's going to be so hard to do this, Edward," her voice cracks with a throaty whisper. "I already love him so much."

I feel my throat tighten at her words. I already know she loves him. Maybe she always has, and that's why she took off. Maybe she knows he's supposed to be here, but she just doesn't know where.

"I know ... we don't have to give him up," I mumble, reaching out to take her hand from her abdomen. "You know that. We don't have to go through with this, Bella."

She stares back at me for a few seconds, her lips parted. "Do ... do you want to keep him?"

I feel my heart threatening to jump out of my skin, hammering against my rib cage.

I don't know what to say to that.

Do I want to keep him?

This is one of the many complicated thoughts that often haunt me. I know what I'm feeling and thinking are two separate entities, but I tend to mix them. I overthink, obsess, and eventually I'm lost in a sea of turmoil I can't escape. That's entirely my fault, and because of this, I can't give Bella a straight answer.

So I do what I do best when I don't know, and stay quiet.

Because I'm a fucking hypocrite like that.

"It's ..." She inhales shakily, and I start picking at the cotton sheet on my bed, unable to meet her eyes. "It's okay if you don't want that, I was just asking so I could know ..."

I suck at the inside of my cheek, teeth digging into the flesh there until I nearly draw blood.

"It's not that I don't want him." I shake my head loosely, digging my fingers into the fabric. "I just ... I want ..."

I hate this.

I know this is what I wanted, but I wanted more from her. I wanted to know she's okay, not for her to turn it around on me.

"It's all right, Edward," she whispers, wrapping her hand around my wrist. I glance up to see she's smiling―always smiling, smiling, smiling for me.

I swallow hard and nod. "I think if we're going to do this, I shouldn't feel the baby anymore."

On some level, I know how fucked up it is to suggest something like this. Bella has to feel him all the time; he's constantly kicking her to remind her he's there.

It isn't fair, but all of this only serves to complicate our situation even further. I feel him kick and smile effortlessly, I don't even have to think about how much he means to me. He's one part Bella, one part me, and he's fucking awesome―channel three owns me.

But I also know what's best, and we can't do this. I'm seventeen; I'm irresponsible and nowhere near ready for fatherhood. A few months couldn't prepare me―a few years couldn't.

"I want to have a baby with you, one day," she mutters, clearing the wetness from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

I want that, too. I don't have to think about it. There isn't a doubt in my mind that I'll start a family with this girl someday.

"I do too," I agree. I resist the urge to pull her closer to me. If I did that, I'd probably hold her all night and I'd forget about why it's so important to talk to her.

"But it's not him." Her lower lip trembles as she nods, tears slowly streaming from the corners of her eyes. "I know. He could have so much more with them ..."

I reach out to wipe her tears away. "Bella, I know this hurts, baby. We―"

"I don't want to give him to just anybody." She interrupts. "But I like Vic and Jim. I just don't know if he belongs with them. But they deserve a baby."

"We'll get to know them better," I promise. I scoot closer to her, pulling her into my arms. "We'll make sure they aren't baby mongers before we agree to anything."

She nods, sniffling. I drag my fingers across her cheeks and lean in to kiss her it. I taste the saltiness from her tears and kiss the corner of her eyes.

"We won't do anything until we're sure about them, Bella," I breathe against her sweet and salty skin, closing my eyes for a moment.

"Until we're sure," she agrees. "It just ... fuck, it hurts, Edward."

I hug her close to me, my heart squeezing in my chest as she cries silently. I kiss her face again and push my fingers through her strawberry tinted hair.

I make promises of someday with her. Someday we'll have a family. Someday it won't hurt this way because everyone will be happy. I believe this.

We're just kids. There's always a someday for us.

I lie next to her and tell her I love her. She stretches another one of my shirts out as she tugs on it in an effort to pull me closer. I breathe in her lavender and weirdness, telling her I'll always be there for her no matter what she chooses to do.

When her tears have dried and I think that she's okay, I have to tell myself that what I'm thinking and feeling are two very different things.

We're young.

We have time.

We have a someday, and it's not now.

Tomorrow is another day with another bridge to cross, but I'm not doubtful about that. I'm not fearful of the future because I know that it includes her. I know we'll be able to conquer whatever comes our way … we'll do that together.

* * *

 **August 26th, 2012**

 _Bella,_

 _We have given your concerns so much thought. Here are our answers to your questions:_

 _How would you provide for him? We're financially stable. We've purchased our house, we own our cars, we have saved for years for the day we would finally become parents. He'll never go without food to eat or a roof over his head or the love of a mother and father._

 _When he's sick, will someone be there to take care of him? Who? We'll both be here to take care of him, always. To comfort him during sleepless nights, cuddle him when he's just tired, rock him when he's fussy, clean his scraped knees, and take him to the doctor when necessary. He'll never know what it is to be sick and alone, for we will always be with him._

 _If he gets scared, what will you say to him? We'll hold him close and chase the monsters away. We'll let him crawl into bed between us when a bad dream has woken him. We'll show him there's nothing in the closet 100_ _times if need be. We'll make sure he knows he can come to us with any of his fears from simple spiders to his first girlfriend._

 _This probably sounds ridiculous, but health is important. Will you let him play? Will you make sure he's well fed and nourished? Not only will we let him play, but we'll play with him. We'll introduce him to new friends and make play dates for him. I'll cook all of his meals homemade and make sure he eats his peas and carrots. We'll nourish him with not_ _only food but our love as well._

 _We want to know that he'll be safe. What steps will you take to ensure his safety? We'll baby-proof the_ _house, and buy only the best car seat available. We'll make sure he wears his helmet and pads as he learns to ride a bike, teach him never to text and drive, but most of all, we'll cocoon him in our love._ _We'll hold him close when he needs it and let him spread his wings and fly when that time comes, too._

 _We want to know that our baby will be loved. How would you show him that? We will show him love with our every action. Our every thought will be focused on letting him know he's everything to us. He'll know that he had two amazing angels who created him and they_ _specifically_ _chose us to love and take care of him. We'll let him know that we were entrusted with the most precious gift in the entire world. The gift of him._

 _We're so grateful you gave us this chance and hope to hear from you soon._

 _Victoria and James Hunter_

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! So I asked my friend and prereader, Fyrebyrd89, to write this letter because I couldn't get it right. She nailed it. I just want to send her, along with my beta, SunflowerFran, a million thank yous for making this chapter prettier. They really took their time to help me with this, and I'm so happy with the end result.**

 **Please stop by Pay it Forward, Fran's Facebook group, to check out exclusive teasers, etc., if you haven't done that already. It's an _amazing_ group we've got, and there's always room for more.**

 **Thank you for reading.**


	30. October 1st, 2012 1:27 pm

**I own nothing**

 **October 1st, 2012**

 **1:27 p.m.**

 _I'm just here to pick something up. I'm just here to pick something up. I'm not going to look at games._

 _Not. Looking. At. Games._

It doesn't matter what I say to myself, I still end up at the center of GameShack, asking when _Call of Duty: Black Ops 2_ comes out.

"Dude, I'm so pumped!" Alec, one of the associates, nearly throws his Subway sandwich across the store as he points to a poster hanging on the window. He jumps up and down, shoulders vibrating with excitement. "November, man. Next. Freaking. Month."

I laugh because, yeah, I'm pumped too.

With Emmett not around, and Brightside not allowed to come over on school nights, I spend a solid five hours of my day on Em's Xbox 360. It isn't the most productive way to spend my time, but it's better than the many alternatives I could have come up with PB.

Pre-Brightside me would probably hang out with Jake Black's crew, drinking warm beer his brother bought him. PB me would probably smoke pot and sit around, listening to shitty country music and feeling sorry for myself.

PB me was a douche.

"Sweet." I nod in agreement. "Uh … so, I don't want to cause any trouble here, but I think that kid back there is pocketing Skylander characters."

"Hm?" Alec furrows his brows. I point over my shoulder. There's a kid in a parka, standing at the back corner of the store, who's trying to be stealthy as he opens random packages and pockets the contents. Alec leans over the red countertop, sandwich in hand. "Ahh, son of b— _snitch_."

"Sorry," I mutter. I take a step back, ready to head for the exit.

"No, man, it's cool," he protests, holding his hand out to signal me to wait. He peers over my shoulder and curls his bottom lip to shoot off a high-pitched whistle. "Hey, kid!"

Skylander boy freezes mid-step, his hands in the air. "I didn't take anything, I swear!"

"Drop the robot." Alec tries to sound menacing, but he's got Subway smashed in the side of his mouth so it sounds muffled.

"Hog Wild Fryno isn't a robot, Alec." The boy turns around and starts pulling figures from his pocket, dropping them on the ground as he jogs towards the exit. "He's part of the Blazing Biker Brigade, idiot."

"You're too old for that game anyway!" Alec yells after him.

"Uh"—I twist around to reface him, pointing over my shoulder.—"you want someone to go after him?"

He takes a bite out of his foot long, shaking his head. "No, he always does this. He got banned from the mall, like, five months ago. LP here is shit though, so he'll probably be back. They usually catch him before he leaves."

I wear a blank expression, staring at the weirdo before me and wondering if he's serious. I shrug.

Whatever.

"Uh … kay."

I told myself I wouldn't be at the mall for longer than an hour, but I've already lost twenty minutes talking games with Alec. I don't even know where the time went. I came here to pick up a birthday gift for Brightside, and now I'm thinking about spending my paycheck on video games.

I shake my head to myself.  
 _  
Next payday, Cullen … maybe.  
_  
"Holy crap, now I know why you look familiar!" Alec shouts, dropping the last of his sandwich on the counter. His blue eyes widen with recognition. "You're the paper boy, right?"

I groan, rolling my head on my neck.

I hate when people call me that. Even Bella doesn't call me "paper boy", and she generally calls me every name she can think of.

"Um, yeah. That's me. I'm the … _paper boy_ ," I choke the words out, shuddering.

He furrows his brows. "What? You don't like your job?"

I shrug dismissively. "I mean, it's cool or whatever, but I don't really see myself doing it in ten years. If you know what I mean."

He extends his arms out at his sides, his eyes widening with excitement.

"Dude-bro, you want to work here? Wait—how old are you?" He squints at me like he's trying to read my age on my forehead. "You look like you could be twenty, but you have that slouchy posture like a fifteen-year-old."

"Seventeen," I reply, shoving my hands in my coat pockets as I shift. "I'm a senior at Forks High."

"Oh." He scoffs, rolling his eyes to himself as he crumples the sandwich wrapper to toss it in the trashcan behind the counter. "Duh. You have to be at least sixteen to drive a car."

I feel my lips tugging up with a smirk.

I think I like Alec.

"Uh, yeah," I agree casually. "I'm old enough to drive, so …"

"You _could_ work here." His eyes grow small while he stares me down. "How much do you make at your job now?"

"Eight-fifty an hour," I lie. I got five an hour at the market when I was a bag boy, I make close-to-nothing throwing papers.

Alec eyes me skeptically.

He knows I'm a liar.

"I bet I can convince Marcus to do nine." He spins around to pluck an application from the stool behind the counter. He holds out the paper and a pen. "He needs game-pimps bad. You want to apply?"

I stall for a moment, contemplating. I should jump at the chance to make nine bucks an hour. I need money, and the job I have barely covers my cellphone bill, let alone gas. On the contrary, if I get this job, that means I'll probably be seeing even less of Brightside.

I couldn't even afford her birthday present last month.

I mean, it's just an application. I don't think Alec could really get me a job here. But maybe it's worth a shot?

"Okay," I agree. I pull my hands out of my pockets to take the pen and paper from him.

 **4:45 p.m.**

"Babe."

Bella hums, her eyelids crinkling.

"Babe," I repeat, hovering over her form to kiss her lips. I move my mouth across her cheek to press small kisses across her jaw. She smells like Brightside—strange, fruity, and addicting. "Brightside," I sing throatily, nuzzling my nose to her neck.

She moans softly, bringing her hands up to my hair to kiss me. I mumble into her mouth, "What are you doing on my bedroom floor?"

She sighs faintly, her cinnamon-scented breath washing over my face. I smirk. I would bug out if anyone else breathed in my face, but with her I've loved it since the beginning. "I …" she blinks awake, looking around my room until her eyes find and focus on mine. "Uh … oh! Um, I was trying to do yoga."

I nod, believing that. "And …." I drawl out, draping my hand over her hip. I'm careful as I maneuver my arm around the large bump there.

I try not to touch channel three anymore, but it's inevitable. He's a part of Brightside, I can't just avoid him until he's gone.

"You fell asleep?" I inquire, lifting my head to raise a brow at her.

This is the scene I came home to: Bella spread out on my bedroom floor, dressed in a lavender tank top and a pair of my navy blue sweats. I don't even know how she got in my house, or when, but I'm a little too excited by her presence to question it.

"Yeah," she says absentmindedly, twisting her head around to eye the shopping bags I have strewn across the floor. My lips find her neck again. "Uh—um … you went to GameShack?"

I force myself to pull away from her addictive skin. I clear my throat, nodding. "Yeah, I needed to pick something up." I plant my hands on the floor to push myself to my feet and walk over to retrieve the bags off the floor. "And I met this weird dude in the mall who offered me a job."

"At the jewelry store?" she points to the not-so hidden bag containing her birthday present.

I shake my head, grimacing at the thought of working at _Precious Memories_. That store is filled with old ladies who fawned over me coming in to buy my girlfriend's birthday present. It's not like I was buying a fucking engagement ring … but yeah, I kind of considered buying that, too.

"No, GameShack." I grab the gift and discard the bag haphazardly on the floor. "I found this on the parking lot."

She has a knowing smirk. "Hm. So did you put in an application?" she wonders as I walk over to her. I drop down beside her, crossing my legs to get comfortable in the cramped space of my bedroom.

"Yee-ah." I nod, setting the box by her hand. "Weird guy said he could talk the manager into paying me nine dollars an hour."

Her eyes widen with surprise. "Wow. That's good, you need a new job. No one around here wants to hire me," she sighs through puffed cheeks, her brown eyes dancing from me to the ceiling nervously. "They think I look like Stay Puft."

I scoff at her, my eyebrows pushing together in disbelief. " _What_? The marshmallow man? Who told you that?"

She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. Will you help me sit up?" She holds her hands out for me to grab.

"Is that why you fell asleep on the floor?" I ask, pushing my fingers through hers as I pull her into sitting position. "Bella, you could've asked my mom for help."

"No, I just passed out as soon as I laid back. And your mom has been sleeping since she got home from work." She waves a dismissive hand, sighing again.

"Who called you Stay Puft?" I repeat, fuming at the thought of someone bad-mouthing my Brightside.

It's been this way since we started senior year. Bella and I don't have any classes together; she takes AP courses and I'm stuck with the basic ones. Not that I'm complaining—I'm proud of my basic-ass classes. At least I didn't fail, passed all my classes with an eighty-five percent or higher last semester. Unfortunately, since we don't take any classes together, I can't be there to protect her like I wanted to.

"Well," Bella begins, rubbing her hands along her large stomach. "It's kind of stupid. I was in Weight class today, you know, doing nothing." She spins her index finger as she points downward, to channel three's home. I nod for her to continue. "I was just chilling one of the benches listening to music, and I heard Jane talking about how fucking fat I am—"

"You serious?" I interrupt. "Bella, why wouldn't you say something?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically. "Because I didn't need to. It's over … and Heidi tried to clock her ... did, sort of, clock her … after she called me Stay Puft to my face."

I stare at her for a moment, trying to properly digest this information. "Bella ..." I inhale deeply through my nose, shutting my eyes. "What. The. Fuck."

What do I have to do to get this girl to tell me something? _Didn't need to tell me_? Is she fucking serious?

"Edward," she sing-songs, placing her hands on my shoulder. I feel her warm lips on my cheek, moving across my jaw. "I'm okay. The baby is okay. So please stop worrying, drama queen."

I snap my eyes open, but I'm not mad. Not really. Not at her.

I think about the awesome thank-you letter I'm going to write Heidi for being such a crazy bitch.

"What are you even taking weight class for, Bella?" I ask, dragging my fingers through her hair. "You can't lift anything over ten pounds."

She flashes me a devilish grin. "Exactly."

I stare at her for a moment, wondering how she could've possibly talked Mrs. Cope, our guidance counselor, into that one. "You're crazy, you know that?" I peck her lips, since they're right there. She hums, tightening her fingers in my hair. "This is bullshit, Bella. Please don't tell me you're letting those girls get to you …"

I say "those girls" broadly, because I know this isn't the first time Bella heard someone talking about her. It's not the first time _I_ heard someone talk, only I don't let it slide like she does. I can't keep my cool when someone says something about Brightside or channel three. I've never hit anyone, but I came close to it when Collin, one of Jake's buddies, attempted to convince me that Bella is trying to trap me.

It's like this whole fucking town thinks Bella's pregnancy is a conspiracy. They look at me like they feel bad for me, then they talk behind Bella's back as if she's some villain out to ruin me. I'm glad she has Heidi, but it's not enough.

"I'm not letting them get to me," she reassures me as she sits back on her heels. "You wanted to know, so I told you what happened. I'm fine. Pufty." She smirks, and I feel my face fall. "Kidding."

"Funny," I deadpan.

She sighs, looking down at the box I placed in front of her earlier.

"Open it," I urge, playfully shoving her shoulder. "Find out what it is. You know you want to."

The corners of her lips twitch. "This doesn't look like it's been sitting in a parking lot, _Edward_."

"That's 'cause the guy dropped it and pulled off before I could catch him, _Bella_ ," I mock, matching my tone to hers.

She spares me a disbelieving glance as she works her finger under the silver wrapping paper. I lean forward, watching her eyes as she lifts the lid from the small rectangular box.

It isn't anything spectacular, but I know she'll love it regardless. Rose swore she would.

Bella's already smiling as she lifts the chain from its box, bringing it up so the pendants fall loosely into her palm. It's seems kind of stupid to me now; the sun, the star, the moon, the saying on the back.

"Brightside," she whispers, smiling cheek-to-cheek with starry-sparkling eyes. "Edward, it's ..."

"The moon and sun thing was Rose's idea," I confess, tugging at the seams of my jeans nervously. "She came up with this whole 'you're the sun to my moon' saying to go on the back, but I thought this would work too."

"It's perfect," she whispers, setting the pendants so they lay face-up in the palm of her hand. "Brightside is perfect. Will you help me put it on?"

I nod and take the necklace from her, getting to my knees as I fumble with the latch for a moment. I finally get it and reach around her. "That's what you are to me, you know."

"The sun to your moon?"

I chuckle breathily against her neck as I try to loop the hook through the tiny piece at the other end of the chain. "Uh, yeah ... that too, I guess. You're my Brightside."

I feel her smiling against my shoulder as I finally get the hook to latch through. "You're mine too."

"What?" I sit back on my heels to look at her.

Her light pink lips are curved in with a heart-stuttering smile, her eyes dancing over my face. She's glowing and gorgeous, and I feel myself fall a little more in love with her when she smiles like this. It's real, honest-eyed and adoring. I can't question a smile like this.

"My Brightside," she says. "You're more like me than you give yourself credit for, Edward."

"That's _because_ of you," I say simply, because I believe it. I know it's her, she's always my light. My new beginning girl.

"I sound so cheesy," she says around a laugh. "I mean, I probably sound like a girl in one of those horrible high school romance books. Like a three-hundred pager that someone probably reads and thinks 'this is cute', and never picks it up again."

"No," I disagree. "We're not like a cheesy high school novel. And I hope our story would be longer than three hundred pages."

She laughs. "Maybe forty chapters."

"Maybe a few thousand."

"That's a long story, Edward."

"It doesn't all have to be written."

"Would you write about us?"

"In a heartbeat. I love you, girl. You changed everything, in the best way possible."

"What about channel three? Would you include him?"

I stop for a moment, staring at her as my mind goes back to him.

His story would be so different from ours. I wouldn't know what to write about him … his story is with _them_.

Since we received the letter from Vic and Jim, we spend a decent amount of time getting to know them. I wouldn't say we know them well enough to give them channel three, but I do feel like I have a sense of who they are.

 _"We'll hold him when he needs it and we'll let him spread his wings and fly when that time comes too."_

We know their answers aren't everything they're supposed to be, but it was enough to put our minds at ease. We want channel three to never have to go without. We want to know that he'll be loved and cherished, and although that's something we could provide him with, we can't give him everything he needs.

A few days after we agreed to contact Victoria and James about the adoption, we consulted with Renee and Charlie about our decision. While Renee seemed to respect our decision, Charlie had a completely different reaction.

Charlie in one word: indifferent. I couldn't understand his reaction for the life of me. It's like he went into cop mode for a minute?

"Edward," Bella pulls me out of my reverie.

"Sorry." I clear my throat. "Of course I would include him. Our story wouldn't be the same without him."

She sends me a pensive look. "You went into your head for a minute there. You okay?"

I bite at the inside of my cheek, nodding slowly. "I'm okay. You just got me thinking."

She raises an eyebrow. "About the baby?"

"Yeah," I reply absently. I look down at her growing stomach and force myself to swallow. "I don't know. It's stupid."

"What?" she whispers, running her hands through my hair. She pleads me with her eyes. "Tell me, Edward."

I look between her eyes and think about honesty and how far it's gotten me. I can tell her how I feel.

"How do other people do this? How can you _possibly_ learn to trust someone enough to give them your baby? I feel like I'll never have enough time," I admit, shaking my head. "I'm sorry—"

"Edward, no, I feel the same way. I think maybe we're just being biased." She rubs the life-bump and heaves a sigh. "Vic and Jim seem so … sincere."

"They do," I agree. "It just … does this ever feel like giving up to you?"

"No," she answers immediately. "No, I don't think this is giving up. Isn't this one of the first things we discussed, Edward? We're not giving up. We're giving more, to someone who needs it."

I nod to myself.

We don't need a baby. We think we want what we made, but this isn't necessary. We're giving him a better life, not giving up.

"He'll be okay." She crawls over to my lap to straddle me. I can feel the bump brushing against my stomach, but I don't mind it. She punctuates each word with a kiss. "He'll be happy … loved … safe."

"I know."

I do. I won't have it any other way.

Channel three will be happy, loved and safe.

I nod, pushing through her long hair to hold my face to hers. Thoughts of channel three slip to the back of my mind with Bella's lips against mine, and I dig my fingers into the carpet beneath me to keep myself from touching her.

Bella gasps into my mouth and I groan out in frustration.

My mother is in the next room. I'm flustered. I want to kiss my girlfriend how I want to and not feel like I'm committing a crime, but I know I'll get carried away like this.

I rest my forehead against hers, attempting to steady my breathing.

"It's okay, Edward." She rolls hers hips against mine suggestively. I bite back a sound welling in my throat. "I can be quiet, you know?"

I catch her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. She stares back at me with her wide brown mischievous eyes. "What?" I ask, chuckling.

Her cheeks flush the purest of pale pink. "I … I miss you, Edward."

I stare back at her, wondering if she's serious. I haven't been with Bella since that night in the grass, months ago. I cringe at the memory—how absent and meaningless it was.

To say I haven't thought about having sex with Bella again would be a big fucking lie; I'm constantly scheming up ways to get her alone.

Too often we fall into conversation about channel three and forget about that part. On the rare occasion she sleeps over, I usually hold her and think about the third life.

"It's okay." She grabs my hands and settles them on her hips. I can't resist the urge to slide my fingers across her soft flesh. "I can be quiet."

She grins slyly and inches her hand down my stomach. I feel my lids lowering as she bunches up the fabric of my _Modest Mouse_ tee. "C-Can you?" I stutter, a lust-struck idiot.

"Uh-huh," she hums, craning her head to place a kiss beneath my jaw. I can feel the pads of her fingers working circles against my abdomen. "I can."

She pops open the button on my jeans, and I forget all about the woman in the next room.

"Okay," I agree. It doesn't feel at all like giving up.

* * *

 **A/N: no tears this chapter, right?! LOL. So small time jump, not too big but noticeable. Also, there's a picture of Bella's gift in Pay it Forward. Its adorable. Thanks to Fyrebyrd89 and Fran for their eyes and thoughts here.**

 **Thank you for reading.**


	31. October 5th, 2012 2:55 pm

**I own nothing.**

 **October 5th, 2012**

 **2:55 p.m.**

"You sure you'll be okay?"

 _"Edward … chill out."_

I take a deep breath and exhale. "I don't like you driving."

 _"You're paranoid."_

I balance the phone on my shoulder and focus on getting my homework out of my locker. "I'm not. I'm sorry, but you're the worst driver in the world."

She laughs without humor _. "Dramatic."_

I roll my eyes.

Bella's supposed to go to Port Angeles after school to meet up with Vic and Jim while I go to work. I don't know how I feel about her being alone with them, but I know she's one-hundred percent correct. I have a history of being paranoid for no apparent reason.

 _"I love you."_

"Now you're hanging up on me?" I joke, shoving my backpack in my locker. I clutch my history homework to my chest and grab the phone to hold it to my ear. "Brightside, why can't your mom go with you?"

 _"I can't talk and drive."_ The agitation is clear in her tone. _"And she's_ always _with me, Edward."_

I kick my locker closed and start walking down the empty hallway. Unfortunately, I missed the chance to meet Bella after class. I had to stay after so Mr. Banner and I could have a heart-to-heart. I'm his new star pupil. Apparently, all the stress in my life has had a tremendous effect on my grades because I'm kicking ass with this science shit.

If only I did this well junior year …

"Uh … what's wrong with that?"

 _"I need to_ connect _with them, Edward. I can't just give them channel three; I need to_ know _them. I can't do that with my mother there, talking about how much Fukushima radiation impacted America. She starts talking and deflects what's important."_

"We can't just harass them, Bella—"

 _"You don't know_ who _they are, Edward. I'm sorry I can't be as trusting as you, but I'm not giving channel three to just anyone."_

"Trusting? You think I'm _trusting?_ I'm trying to tell you that you can't get so involved—" I stop myself when I realize I'm making up excuses, random reasons for her not to go.

"No, you _can't. You don't have to worry about it."_

I stop walking. "What?"

I wait for a response, but it doesn't come. I pull the phone away and frown at the blank home screen. I curse under my breath and shove it in my pocket and start walking twice my average speed. I hardly pay attention to where I'm walking, pissed off beyond belief that she actually hung up on me.

 _"No, YOU can't…"_

What is that supposed to mean?

I keep my eyes on my shoes as I'm rounding the corner to the stairwell, oblivious to my surroundings.

I'm pissed.

I want to go off on her.

I want to send her a long-ass text detailing every reason she's a bitch, but _I don't have to worry about it._

Bullshit.

There's a chance she hasn't even left yet.

I run down the stairs quickly.

I think about leaving through the front office, but don't want to risk someone stopping me, so I quickly decide to take the stairwell exit instead.

Jogging around the building, I pull out my cell to call her. I press the call button three times before it finally goes through and set the phone to my ear, struggling to run and keep my pants up at the same time. Because I'm the idiot who didn't wear a belt to school today.

I reach the parking lot and groan when I discover it's mostly vacant.

"Why the hell are you always running from me?" I whisper to myself.

 _"Hi, you've not-so-much reached Bella. But this is a voicemail that I never check before I return you call, so feel free to leave a message after the beep. Beep-beep!"_

I try to catch my breath as I wait for the actual beep. When it sounds, I open my mouth but find myself at a loss. "Bella, I know you're driving by now and can't talk … just …" I feel a groan rumbling in my throat. I reach to my forehead, dragging my hand across it. "I don't … _not_ care … I do." Too much.

I hang up and shove my phone in my pocket, shaking my head to myself.

Not knowing what I did to her, I decide to let it go. She's emotional, so maybe she's just taking shit out on me. I know I probably deserve it, but I'm still pissed and confused.

I locate the death machine at the back of the lot and haphazardly throw my homework into the backseat. I grab my work shirt from the passenger side and slip it over my T-shirt before starting the car.

I drive to work blaring meaningless rock as I fume over absurd ideas my girlfriend has working in her head.

 _"You don't have to worry about it."_

No. I guess I fucking don't.

 **8:48 p.m.**

I'm jacked up on Mountain Dew Code Red and boredom. I sit beside Alec on the blue floor at Gameshack, spider-wrapping Skylander character packs to prevent Timmy from stealing them again. I can't stop bitching about this afternoon, but Alec doesn't seem to mind. He's just listening to my story about new beginning girl and letting me vent as I work.

"So what's the big deal? You've met them; you know they're not crazy."

"It's not enough," I tell him with a shrug. "I mean, she really wants to know everything about them. In the beginning that was easy, but we usually go there with our parents … not alone."

"It's like you guys are both agreeing they need to earn your trust, only you're freaking out about Bella being alone with them, and she's freaking out about giving up the kid. I can sort of see where she's coming from, though. No, offense." He eyes me warily. "But you need to learn to trust them, just like she's trying to do. What does your mom think of them?"

"Uh, I mean … she thinks they're _nice_ , but I have a feeling she secretly wishes Bella wouldn't go through with it. When I bring up the adoption, she just gets this disappointed look on her face, like it makes her sad."

"Your mom wants you guys to keep the baby?" His eyebrows furrow.

"In the beginning, not really …" I grimace, remembering when I told Mom about channel three. "She didn't exactly have any objections because adoption _is_ a good idea … for _me._ But I think the more Bella comes around, Mom wants her to keep it."

I'm not exactly sure when my mom started feeling reluctant about the adoption, or if she really even is. A few weeks ago I walked in on Mom touching Bella's bump, but I was really too envious of it to notice the glint in her eyes at the time. I haven't felt channel three move in a while, but that was my choice.

She won't _tell_ us to keep the baby. This isn't about what she wants. It's about all of us, and we've already made our decision. My mother is only trying to support that decision.

"Your girlfriend seems cool, but she's stressed," he tells me as he spider-wraps his forehead. "We never talked about adoption, but maybe things would be different if we did. I'm not saying I don't like my kid; I love him to death and would never ever let him go. But he came along and just … slowed stuff down a little. I don't regret anything, but I think about what life without him might be like sometimes."

When I realize he's finished, I feel my eyebrows rise with question. "And what is it like?"

"Without him?" he asks. "Uh … I guess maybe I would've finished college by now. That, and Cal is like, _really_ expensive."

"Were you going to California?"

"No." He shakes his head. "Caleb is my son."

"Oh." I muse for a minute. "Um … how do you and his mom get along if you don't mind me asking?"

"We get along great. Still together, but we aren't how we used to be. There really is no getting around that, though. You have to change eventually. Things with you and Bella will probably get different, anyway. After she has the baby."

I feel my face fall.

Change is inevitable. We can't be stupid and seventeen forever.

"It's a good thing," he concludes with a small smile, touching the spider-wrap on his forehead. "After all, where would we be if we didn't grow?"

 **10:20 p.m.**

I come home to an empty house and a note from my mom informing me she went to work. There's a plate in the microwave, but I ignore it. I find an old bottle of tequila in the cabinet and take three gulps, not caring that my mom will notice.

It's disgusting.

I take another swing and gag. "How does she drink this shit?" I say to myself.

"She doesn't." I jolt at the pretty voice sounding through my mind, the bottle slipping between my fingers. I spin around to face her at the same time the bottle hits the floor, my eyes bugging when I find her leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

"Jesus, Bella," I rasp, feeling my heart slamming against my ribcage. I quickly retrieve the bottle from the ground and scrounge the kitchen for paper towels to clean up the mess. I locate a roll of them under the kitchen sink and throw a few over the—luckily—small spill. "How did you even get in here?"

"Your mom let me in after school," she says in a small voice, much lower than her earlier tone.

"You didn't go to Vic and Jim's?" I drop to my knees beside the mess.

"No, I did. Your mom went with me."

I focus on cleaning the floor, but I'm always aware of her presence. My heart is still speeding, speeding away, fingers shaking from the initial panic she induced.

Or maybe something else.

I clear my throat. "How'd it go?"

"It was okay. They're still … amazing."

I stand and toss the towel in the trash can beside her. "No cold feet?"

"Um … not really." She pauses. "You?"

I shrug.

This is the fucked up reality of _waiting_ for this to be over.

Patience is calm—easy.

Waiting is different.

Waiting is knowing when something is coming and wanting it to end.

I'm waiting.

I can't be patient for this anymore. I want the doubt to be over, done. I want to stop questioning my every decision. I want to stop feeling like I fucked up bad enough to hurt everyone in my life.

And me … I _have_ changed. I didn't even realize it, and growing fucking sucks.

Shaking my head, I stare down at the kitchen floor.

"None here."

I feel her soft fingers on my neck and force my eyes meet hers. Her eyebrows knit together to create a crease on her forehead, which I smooth away with my index finger. I can feel the alcohol warming my stomach, or maybe it's just Bella.

I kiss the corner of her mouth, which is already opened as she begins speaking to me. "I'm really sorry—"

"It's fine," I interrupt. I rest my hands on her shoulder and force a smile. "I can't blame you for wanting to know them better."

"No, it's not," she mutters, staring back at me. "You didn't even trust them enough to let me go alone today, Edward. And you just expect …" she sighs, bringing both of her hands up to touch her face. "And we're supposed to just hand our baby over to them? I know you just want to help, but I don't need a—"

"Want to help?" I bring my hands up to my face and let out a bitter laugh. "Jesus, Bella …"

"What?"

I shrug. "I'm really sorry about this. I never even really apologized for fucking up your life like this."

Her eyes grow small, her expression incredulous. "You … _what?"_

"Yeah." I drop my hands to my sides and stare back at her. I wait for her to deny it, to tell me that I didn't fuck up. A part of me hopes she doesn't. "It's like you said, I'm just … trying to help."

"Why are you saying this?" she whispers. "You didn't ruin anything, Edward."

 _I ruined it before it could even begin._

"I just want this to be over already," I mutter. I feel my eyes widen as soon as I realize what I said. "Not like that—"

She takes a step back and nods solemnly, wringing her hands together. Her knuckles turn white as her eyes fall to the ground. "No, it's okay. You were only being honest. Seven weeks and he'll be out of your hair."

"Bella, I …" I stammer, an idiot.

I always am.

"I didn't mean it like that."

Her face flushes red as she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. "It's late … I think I'm going to head home. Don't party too hard."

I try to speak, but it's as if there's a ton of bricks sitting in my throat and weighing down on my chest. I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, watching her leave through blurring eyes. Not trusting myself to say something I'll regret, I sink down against the kitchen cabinet. I bring my knees to my chest and press my palms to my eyes.

I don't want this to be over.

That's crazy.

"Fuck."

* * *

 **AN: *cringes* I know I know... sorry...**

 **Time is running out and feelings are bubbling over, no one knows who stands where... sigh... They're both frustrated; its a clusterfuck of miscommunication and turmoil.** **Thank you Fyrebyrd89 and Fran, for making me stop being a wimp and finally post this.**

 **Thank you all for reading. I promise all will fall into place.**


	32. October 6th, 2012 9:00 am

**I love you guys.**

 **Frannie, Fyre, I heart you. They make my words prettier and make sure I'm not posting total bullshit, so that's always good. Oh, and Oct. 6th, 2012 was a Saturday ... js.**

 **SM owns. I just turn her characters into human beings with giant hearts and cute nicknames :)**

* * *

 **October 6th, 2012**

 **9:00 a.m.**

The pounding sensation in my head is unlike anything I've ever felt before. My eyes, heavy with sleep, strain against the sunlight streaming through my bedroom window. I close my eyes, stretch and breathe deep, feeling my muscles tense as I recognize the familiar potent scent of vanilla and lavender.

My eyes snap open, my heart skips a beat.

 _She came back._

Fully clothed, shoes on, wavy auburn hair splayed wildly over my pillow, sleepy lips pouted out; she's here. She came back. Her eyes are rimmed red as if she's been rubbing them raw, so I don't doubt she's been crying all night.

 _"I just want this to be over already."_

I swallow thickly, finding hard to believe I really said something like that.

When I said it, I meant it. The second it left my mouth, I regretted it. Maybe she knows that. That's why she came back.

I can't keep my eyes from wandering. They land on channel three's home.

Time after time I tell myself that I'm doing us a favor by not feeling the baby kick.

Still, I can't stop my fingers from reaching out to it. The reason for my every doubt.

It hurts just the same. I can spend a lifetime pretending to avoid this, but it doesn't make a difference.

"I don't know what we're doing to you," I whisper. I rest my palm against the lower part of her stomach, where the life protrudes most. "I just hope we're doing this right."

It happens how it did before. A small nudge, a tap.

A kick.

Life moves just to let me know he's there. As if I could really forget about him that easily.

We never wanted to do this for each other.

I never wanted this for Bella, and I hope she never wanted to do this for me.

We wanted it for him.

So why is it so hard?

The answer seems kind of obvious.

We try to be rational. Try not to allow our feelings to get in the way of things.

We want to make our intentions clear. We want to do the right thing.

So why is it so hard? Why do we doubt? Why doesn't she trust them enough? Why don't I? Why do I care so much about where he goes, or what she wants? Why not walk away now and stop worrying altogether?

Because we love him, and I can't live without her.

My pain, her heartache, my mistrust, her misconception—I don't know what purpose all of this serves except to tear us apart. I don't even know if it will end when he's gone, or if we'll carry this decision with us forever.

She awakens slowly, peering up at me through low, bloodshot eyes. Moving closer, I pull her warm body against mine and wrap my arm around her.

"I didn't mean it," I speak of last night. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"I'm so sorry," she gasps, grasping my shirt tightly in her hands. "Please don't leave me."

"Never." I hug her harder and bury my face in her hair. Channel three moves between us—just reminding us he's here. "Please stop running away from me." I dig my fingertips into her shoulder as if I can bring her closer this way. "Just give me a chance to say what I mean to say. I know I'm bad at this, just give me a chance."

I feel her nod against my shoulder. "Tell me."

I do.

I start with the source of my problems: the two people we're trusting our world with. I tell Bella that I didn't want her to go yesterday because she shouldn't have to go alone, not that I don't trust them.

"You trust them?" She's surprised.

"Well ... I think I _could_ ," I explain. "Maybe I do, in a way. I can't tell if I feel like this because of the baby, or if I really don't trust them."

"Maybe we're acting irrationally because we care so much about channel three," she mumbles, rubbing the exposed skin below her tee.

"We're biased," I conclude. "Maybe we should involve someone else besides our parents. An outsider."

"What if we still feel this way when he's born, Edward?" she asks, worried. "What if we don't trust them entirely by then?"

"Then we don't let him go."

"Just like that?"

I nod. "We're not giving up."

"No, we're giving more," she finishes. "But that's crazy, right? They only want to do this if this is legitimate, Edward. We can't _pretend_ to trust them, that's … cruel."

"And we're only doing this if _they're_ legitimate."

We talk and work out our misunderstandings.

I tell her that she wants to get involved in their lives as much as possible, and I feel like we would throw them off by doing that. I tell her it was never that I didn't care; she's trying so hard to learn so much about the people we're giving the other life to.

"How else do I learn to trust them?!"

Then we fight over our misunderstandings.

"It's as if you want to shove me on the back burner." I can't seem to control my volume. "Yesterday you acted like you didn't want anything to do with me."

Bella starts crying. She wants it all over too. She says that she feels as though this is all weighing down on me, and I carry too much guilt on my shoulders.

"I'm Edward Cullen," I introduce myself formally, holding my hand out. She laughs through her tears.

We kiss and make up.

And because we're two unattended teenagers with a bed beneath us, our clothes end up on the floor alongside the rest of our problems.

We pick them up fifteen minutes later.

"I know it's ridiculous," she tells me as I'm helping her into the jeans she was wearing before I got distracted. "But when everyone started touching channel three and you were the only one who wouldn't, it hurt. I know you were only doing it to make it easier, so I thought maybe I could do this without involving you so much. I could help make it easier for you."

"Bella, that's crazy," I whisper, but it makes it easier for me to understand her. It's not that crazy. I did stop touching her to make it easier. "We're in this together."

"We are," she agrees. "But if I can make this easier for you by not—"

I don't let her finish. I already know where she's going with this, and I'm not _that_ guy.

"Shut up."

She almost looks relieved, as if she really thought I'd let her do this alone.

"Stop trying to do me favors," I say, as we're lying back in bed, fingers entwined over channel three's incubator. "You only cut me down when you run away, crazy girl."

We discuss worst and best-case scenarios while she eats powdered cocoa with her fingers, the same way people generally eat Fun Dip.

"What if … we don't give him up? What if, we're not crazy, and Vic and Jim are nucking futs?" she asks around chocolate covered finger. "Do I drop out of school or something to take care of him?"

"No," I say immediately. "No one is dropping out of anything."

"Oh shit," she whispers, her eyes growing wide. "I can't believe we're even talking about this. Do you realize how crazy this is? I ... I don't even know how to take care of a cat."

I frown. "Mr. Meowgi was an accident," I remind her. "And yeah, this is a little bit longer of a commitment than that."

Our conversations stretch out over the course of our Saturday.

"Can you see Jim being a dad?" she asks as I sort through the bathroom cabinet, trying to find Tums to make her stomach feel better. She holds up a bottle of Pepto. "What's this? It looks like strawberry mil-blah!" She gags and holds the bottle out.

"I guess I could ... Vic seems to wear the pants in the relationship, Jim bends to her a lot," I observe. I pour Pepto in a cup for her. "You think they fight a lot?"

"I don't know," she mutters. "I hope not. You think Vic is a control freak?"

I shake my head. "I don't know her well enough."

"Is it bad that we're talking about them?"

"I think it'd be bad if we _weren't_ talking about them, Bella."

It goes on this way for hours. We discuss everything and nothing, then everything again. We point out simple flaws in Vic and Jim but agree they're petty issues. We don't have a reason to distrust them. On paper, they are perfect, in person, we aren't so sure, but they seem to be perfect there, too.

I feel channel three kick twice. Once when I'm helping Bella clean puke out of her hair, and another while we're sitting on my couch.

"He only kicks like this when I'm around you," she tells me while she brushes her soft hands through my hair. "It's like my heart beats faster when you're with me and the baby starts going crazy and starts dancing."

It's hard not to smile. "Does it hurt?"

She tilts her head to the side. "Sometimes. Imagine getting punched from the inside with a grapefruit. But it has arms and legs and knows baby karate. Do you know karate?"

I tell her about my dad taking me and my brother to karate when I was little. She asks me about him, and I don't leave anything out when I tell her the story. I tell her about finding out when he died, how mom had to pull Emmett and me out of school. I didn't even realize he was gone until we got home and I saw that his truck wasn't parked in the driveway.

"He wanted to be a doctor and save people's lives, like my mom." I tell her about my mom paying off his private loans even after he died. She had to find a way to take care of us, work and pay bills.

Bella is sobbing by the time I'm done, and I don't really know how to explain it to my mom when she gets home.

"Es-Es-Esme." She cries, gasping for air between sobs. "I l-love you."

Mom drops her bag and hugs her. "Honey, I know you're really emotional right now"—she gives me a questioning look and I shrug—"but you need to calm down, you're so upset."

Sometime later, Mom orders pizza and Bella isn't so sad by the time it gets here. We eat at the small table in my kitchen while the girlfriend sniffles and picks at her food. Mom looks tired, doesn't really eat but picks at her pizza like Bella does. She asks what we did all day.

"We talked."

"About?"

"Keeping the baby."

Mom drops the slice of pepperoni in her hand, completely caught off guard. "You're … you're going to _keep_ him?"

"We want to go through with the adoption, Esme," Bella whispers. She stares down at her napkin, probably as nervous about telling my mother this as I am. "But we don't want to give him away to someone we can't or don't entirely trust."

"Are you finding it difficult to trust them?"

Bella and I are silent for a moment, looking at each other nervously and then back to her. "It … it's just that we thought we'd have more confidence than this. We didn't think it would be so hard."

I can't tell my mom that I think I don't trust them. I think I would have trouble trusting anyone who wanted to adopt channel three.

"We like them," Bela continues. "We just don't know if they could give the kind of life we want for him."

My mom raises her eyebrows. "What kind of life do you want for him?" she asks, looking to me.

"We want everything for him, but I think his happiness is the most important thing," I answer in a whisper. "We know they can provide for him. We aren't worried that he'll … go _without_."

"You don't think Victoria and James are happy?" she asks.

"We don't know, Es," Bella mumbles, her cheeks flushing. "We just … don't know."

She leans over the table and snatches Bella's hand. "Look at me, both of you," she demands. I swallow thickly and force myself to look at her. I've never seen my mom wear such a serious expression. Her lips are formed into a thin line, her eyebrows knitted together, her eyes wide and pleading. "Baby, I can't make you do anything. I admire you so much for having the heart to do this, but you have to remember why you wanted to give him up in the first place. You had a goal, didn't you? To give him to someone who would provide him with a good life?"

Bella, wide-eyed and mouth agape, nods slowly. "Y-Yes."

My mother nods. "I don't know what it is that's making you doubt them, but if you listen to your heart and it's telling you that you shouldn't be doing this, you should listen a little closer. I can't stop you, but I can say that this choice is yours and yours alone. And if your parents won't agree with that, you'll always have a home here with us. I'm not perfect, but I'll do everything I can to help you regardless of the choice you make. Victoria and James will have a baby one day, but it doesn't have to be him."

Brightside's eyes sparkle with tears, the soft curves of her cheeks turning pink. "Why is this so complicated?"

"It's not supposed to be simple, baby," she mumbles, kissing her hands before she sets them back on the table. She reclaims her seat and turns to me. "I know you want what's best for him, but you two know better than anyone else what that might be. Not your mom,"—she gives Bella a pointed look—"not your father, and not me."

She sighs, dropping her hands to her lap.

"Mom," I mumble. She lifts her head warily and gives me a questioning look. "Thank you."

She smiles softly. "You still have a little time. Hopefully when the time comes, you'll know if it's right."

Bella frowns. "What if we don't? What if—"

"What did I say?" Mom asks, pointing to her chest. "Stop thinking about everyone else for a minute and think about what _you_ want."

Bella doesn't say anything.

I wonder if it's even possible for her to stop thinking about everyone else.

* * *

 ***hugs you all* it'll get better guys. I'm just trying to keep it real. Thanks for sticking with me, even through the pain and confusion. You're awesome :) Fran didn't touch the ending, since I have a major tweaking malfunction and change shit at the last possible minute.**


	33. October 20th, 2012 9:31 pm

**I own nothing.**

* * *

 **October 20** **th** **, 2012**

 **9:31 p.m.**

My life in the last two weeks in one word: fucked.

I picked up extra hours at Gameshack, so outside of school I've only seen Bella twice.

 _Twice._

It feels like death, but that's probably because I also got sick with the flu. And although I really missed her and spoke with her on the phone every night—with the exception of the two nights I couldn't seem to remove myself from the bathroom floor—I feel like the distance between us may have been a good thing.

It's not that I _wanted_ to be away from her, but if we hadn't had this seemingly eternal separation between us, Brightside wouldn't've got the chance to patch things up with her father. Which came as a complete shock to me, because I hadn't even realized there _was_ an issue between her and Charlie.

Other than missing my girlfriend and dealing with constant postnasal drip, I've also been trying to convince my mother not to go on a date tomorrow night with this guy named Max. When she asks me why, the only reason I came up with was: "Uh, his name is Max."

She's still going.

Whatever.

So after all this time, I finally have a night off and I'm only blowing my nose every thirty minutes, Jim asked if I wanted to go bowling tonight. I couldn't decline the offer, especially when I've lost two more weeks of my life I could've spent getting to know the people who want channel three.

Jim encouraged me to bring a friend along, so the first person I thought to bring was Alec. He's easygoing and won't make it awkward. When I asked him if he wanted to come along earlier tonight he responded with: "I'd love to meet your baby daddy."

Not awkward at all.

"You want to put up the bumpers?" He taunts when I sit back down after bowling my second gutter ball. I sniffle and pull out the little package of tissues my mom made me bring with me. "Come on, kid, it's no big deal."

"I hate you," I lie, untying my not-so-my shoes. He chuckles and tries to ruffle my hair, but I quickly slap his hand away. "Stop, freak."

"I want a divorce. You never let me touch you anymore," he huffs and busts out laughing when he sees me glaring. He stands from his chair and turns to me. "I'll be back. I'm going to use the facilities and get cheese fries."

"Wash your hands," I quip, since I'm a germ-freak now.

"Kay, mommy." He flips me off and walks away as our third player takes his seat in the chair beside me. I check the score and see he bowled another strike. I curse under my breath, wondering if I can do anything right.

I suck.

"Don't feel bad," Jim says, leaning back in his chair. "When I was your age, all we really had to do for fun was go bowling. We didn't have all these electronics to keep preoccupied with, we had … this."

I shrug. "I don't really get it, I guess. I'm like Bella … I'd rather read a book."

He's silent for a minute. "Vic doesn't like bowling either."

I let my mind wander as I scan my eyes around the busy bowling alley. I don't even think when the next thing escapes my mouth is: "Why didn't you guys just do it? Why didn't you have a baby? By yourself, I mean."

He stiffens momentarily, caught off guard by my unexpected inquiry. He coughs out a nervous laugh and relaxes his shoulders, shaking his head shortly. "Um …"

My eyebrows lift. "You don't have to tell me—"

"No, no!" His protests. His shoulders slouch as he faces me, seemingly more relaxed. "It's not that I have a _problem_ sharing this with you, but I suppose I'm not used to people asking. They usually assume it's because we can't have one."

I shrug. "Yeah, I mean, that's it, isn't it? Vic can't get pregnant?"

"Well … she _could."_ He strings the word out and I lean closer, curious. "Just not with me."

I feel my jaw slack, surprised. I guess I didn't think he could be the problem.

"Oh," I mutter, tearing my eyes away from him to glance around the bowling alley. I purse my lips and nod slowly. "Sorry."

I turn back to see him shrug. "Like I said, no big deal. We tried and tried for years and always thought … it must be Vic."

"So … all this time you thought Vic couldn't get pregnant?"

He nods. "We kept seeing doctors—trying to figure out what the problem was. It took us five years to even consider that there _could_ be a problem. We eventually saw this fertility specialist who told us that there was a chance Vic couldn't have children, and she … sort of … shut down for a while after that."

Not knowing how to respond to that, I purse my lips and tilt my head to the side. _I'm so awkward_. "That … sucks."

He lets out an elongated sigh. "Yeah, but I'm not quite _stressing_ over it. If it can't be helped, it can't be helped. When we found out _I_ was the problem, it made it even worse. However, I did try to convince Vic to go to a fertility clinic."

Letting my curiosity get the best of me, I lean closer, as if I can understand him better by invading his personal space. "What happened then?"

"She wouldn't do it." He sighs. "She said if she couldn't have a baby that was a part of both of us, she wouldn't do it at all. It wasn't fair to me."

"So she wanted to adopt instead," I conclude.

"She wasn't all for that idea either," he admits, looking sheepish. "It took a while to wrap her head around the concept of adoption. Why would we do that when she could still get pregnant?" He shrugs. "Well, again, it was the fairness of it all. I assured her I would love any child that came from her, but she wouldn't do it. But when she thought about the adoption, after a while, she fell in love. Maybe too much …"

"Why do you say that?" I ask.

"Uh … doesn't she come on a little too strong?" He gestures around himself. "Even this—it's crossing the line a little, Edward. I told her we can't get so involved in your lives, we can't overstep. We seem overbearing. It makes us appear … suspicious."

I can't help it. I bust out laughing. I think about how I feel about Bella trying to get to know them so well, and I feel the same.

"What?" he asks, worried. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no," I protest, shaking my head vehemently. "Not at all."

It actually makes me feel better knowing that I'm not the only one worried about intruding.

"Can I ask you something?" he asks, his expression serious.

I pause and force my composure back as it was before I started laughing. "Sure."

"I know you probably can't answer this, so don't feel obligated. I've been through this before and I know when someone is having doubts, so I have to ask … how sure is Bella about the adoption? Do you … do you talk about it, you know? How she feels about it?"

I don't know why it surprises me. Maybe I never imagined he'd ask me, or maybe I didn't think he'd noticed.

I don't want to tell Jim about our reluctance. Of course we're indecisive, we're seventeen. Bella struggles with this, but in the end she knows what she wants. I do too, and I agree with her that our fears seem irrational.

We aren't prepared for channel three. James and Victoria have been prepared for a decade.

"Honestly—"

"You don't have to tell me." He waves a dismissive hand and stands from his chair. "I know she probably thinks we're crazy or something, but I thought I'd ask. It's a hard thing to do, but that's why we do this. We'd rather you know who we are and choose to give your baby to us rather than leave you wondering and miss the opportunity to prove that he's in good hands. I think it'd probably kill me too, giving my kid up to total strangers," he muses to himself.

His words leave a sharp jabbing sensation in my chest.

"We didn't know it would be like this," I blurt out.

He turns to me and shrugs as if it isn't a big deal.

"No one did."

* * *

 **A/N: *clears throat and waves* hi, guys. So I'm in the middle of a big move/home improvement project right now and I'm never home anymore, so I apologize for the unpredictable updates. I suck.**

 **There were a few** ** _begging_** **last chapter that BxE give up channel three. Uh … from the get-go you knew this was about teen pregnancy, and while this story is** ** _almost_** **over, there's still a bit left to learn. As I said before, I'm just trying to keep it real. I will tell you that Brightside makes the right decision, so I hope that helps.**

 **Thank you Fran, Fyrebyrd89, and all you lovely readers. You're a-freaking-mazing.**


	34. October 31st, 2012 9:10 pm

**A/N: Hi.**

 ***coughs***

 **So guys… the end is nigh.**

 **But first, some shit has to happen. So yeah. Here's that.**

* * *

 **October 31** **st** **, 2012**

 **9:10 p.m.**

"Is she drunk?"

"No," I say, and I mean it too.

"Are you sure? Sniff her breath," Emmett encourages, nudging me with his elbow, trying to push me toward her.

I laugh. "She's not drunk, she's happy."

He snorts. "He's a trucker?"

I shrug. "His name is Max."

"Irrelevant. He drives Macs?" Emmett smirks. "I don't like this guy already."

I really want to agree with him, but I also know Max a little better than to judge him by his sizeable name. I've had one full conversation with him since we met, and I sort of, kind of, really, definitely, like him a lot …

He's not a bad guy.

He even calls Brightside 'Sunny Girl,' which I would think is creepy if I didn't like that weird fucker so much.

 _"Woot, Woot!"_ Alec bellows, jumping up and down. He stands beside the bonfire, sticking his tongue out at Brightside. She crosses her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes. "Aw, don't look so sad. You want some haterade with that frown?"

Brightside, who takes shit from no one, punches Alec in the forearm.

"This guy is weird, too," Emmett says, pointing to my newest friend. "He kind of reminds me of you, so I guess I'll put up with him."

I grimace. People keep saying that Alec and I look alike; we could be twins. I mean, he's five years older than me, way taller than I am, and he gets his hair cut regularly.

I groan then. I get my hair cut like every three weeks now.

 _We are twins._

Everyone loves Alec, though. He's the star of the party, even my mom can't get enough of him. She keeps calling him "Alex" and forcing all this food she made on him.

Mom decided to throw a Halloween party this year, which I tried to protest, but she wanted to do something special since Emmett is here for the next few days. I think she secretly wanted to do this as a way of introducing Max to my family, but whatever. Everyone is happy for my mother, and they all seem to like Max … except for Emmett, but I think he'll come around.

This is kind of what I imagine a normal family event to be like. No one is drunk, although I suspect my aunt Layla is sneaking little bottles of tequila when no one is looking. People are laughing, there's country music playing in the background, and no one here is making a big deal over the other life. They don't stare and ask Bella questions about channel three, they just treat her like she's a part of the family. I don't know if it's because my mom told them to, or if it's just the power of distraction Brightside has on people.

Whatever. They're happy.

Bella meets us at the edge of the backyard, slowly, since she waddle-walks these days.

"I just lost ten bucks," she pouts, wrapping her arms around my waist. I accept her hug and kiss her pouted lips before pulling back to look around for Alec, about to beat him into giving Bella her ten bucks back. "It's okay"—she waves her hand dismissively—"you reap what you sow I guess."

"Bella's a gambling addict now?" Emmett asks, peeking over my shoulder to tease her. "I leave for a few months, come back and everyone is getting jobs, becoming gambling addicts, finding weird friends, and dating truckers."

"Oh, Max isn't a trucker," Bella insists, tightening her arms around me.

"Take it from Bella," I tell Emmett, tilting my head to the girlfriend. "She knows truckers."

"I do," she smirks. "But no, he's really not a truck driver anymore. He got fired after his last incident—which landed him in the hospital and into Nurse Cullen's arms," she sighs, getting this distant, day-dreamy look in her eyes.

I roll my own at her theatrics, turning back to my brother. "He hit a truck from another company, who sued the company he works for, who then fired him."

Emmett narrows his eyes in Max's direction.

He's laughing with Mom, looking comfortable and relaxed surrounded by these people he doesn't know—which mainly consists of my mother's family, her friends, and some of mine and Emmett's.

Emmett shakes his head. "I knew there was something wrong with that motherfucker."

I shift. "He's a good guy, Emmett."

"I like him," Bella agrees.

I try not to laugh when I see her tugging at the sweater she has on. It's black and orange striped, reading 'PUMPKIN SMUGGLER' across the top. When I asked her why she wore it, she shrugged at me and said, "Everyone already thinks I'm bogarting a beach ball, might as well embrace it."

I didn't have the heart to tell her no one really thinks she's smuggling a beach ball. _Everyone_ in this town knows what's going on. I think she knows this too, but I can't stop Bella from being Bella. She's always trying to find a joke in everything, miss-look-at-the-brightside in any given situation. Except for maybe one.

I take a step back when I feel her tugging on my arm.

"Come on, country kid," she whispers in my ear, trailing her fingers over my neck. "I'm stealing you."

I don't really know what it is about Bella's pregnancy that makes her so daring, but she's been doing this a lot lately. I'd say no since we're surrounded by people who would definitely realize we're gone, but … I'm seventeen.

We don't do anything.

Okay, no, we definitely do something.

With both the house and backyard filled with guest, we end up in the backseat of the DM, sweaty and grabby, fogging up the windows in forty-degree weather. My car is parked in the alleyway so a few of Mom's party guests had a place to put their cars, so no one can really see us. It's difficult with channel three getting in the way, but we manage to maneuver around the backseat.

Bella complains about sweaty skin sticking to the seats, and I bitch about all the pressure on my dick. She laughs and tries to unzip me. I stop her. I don't want anyone walking in (out?) on us; it's bad enough we fogged up all windows.

"I want to help," she smiles, batting her long eyelashes at me.

I think I'm going to come in my pants, so I tell her no. I can tell she's going to get pissed, so I pretty much shove my tongue down her throat to make her forget about it. I have a little self-control. Not much, but just enough to say no to backseat-sex.

Our party is ruined when someone knocks on the window. Bella has to use the sleeve her sweater to wipe the fog off the window and see who it is.

"Ah!" she screams, ducking her head. I roll my eyes when I spot Rosalie peeking through the window, laughing her ass off. I hover over Bella, reaching down between the seat and door to roll down the window. It takes me forty seconds to get it halfway, but that doesn't deter Rosalie. She sticks her head inside, and Bella covers her face with her hands. "Sorry to interrupt, kids."

Brightside buries her face in her sweater.

I roll my eyes, more agitated than embarrassed. I mean, this was her idea, not mine. Of all the people she should be embarrassed at being caught by tonight; Rose is not one of them.

"Good to see you, Rosalie," I tell her, maybe a little sarcastic. "How's college?"

She plants her hands on the window and leans in a bit more. I can tell she's going to be here a while, so I try to get comfortable and tug at my pants as discreetly as possible. I give her a look that says _leave or I kill you,_ which, of course, she thinks is fucking adorable.

She grins. "I'm glad to be back, Edward. And college is great—Arizona is fucking hot." She narrows her eyes at me before twisting her head back creepily to smile at my Brightside. I pull her closer to my side, wondering why my brother had to date a whack job who has no concept of privacy.

"H-Hi Rosalie," Bella stammers, as if this wasn't her BFF two months ago.

Rose laughs and cocks her head up, winking at me. "I've been here for an hour and a half. Do you realize how long you've been out here?"

I purse my lips. "I'm guessing an hour and a half."

She holds her smile. "Yep."

I sigh, looking between Bella and Rosalie. "Uh ... Okay, give me a minute."

She nods, still staring.

I widen my eyes at her, silently telling her to get the fuck out _,_ which she ignores. Big surprise there.

Her smile widens, trying not to laugh at the make-out instigator who looks like she's about to shrink into her sweater any minute.

"Anyway, your Mom is getting ready to call the party off." She narrows her eyes at us. "I can't believe you two. Think of all the trick-or-treaters you scared away tonight"—I start rolling up the window again, which takes twice as much time as it did going down—"Shame on you."

My arm hurts too much to move by the time I have the window back up, so I let my head fall on Bella's stomach, closing my eyes for a minute. "Sorry."

"Don't be, I love her," she says, breathing a nervous-sounding laugh.

"I didn't realize we were out here for that long."

I hear her sighing as she pushes her fingers through my hair. "I should go, too. My brother is coming into town next weekend and for some reason Mom wants the house to be spotless."

"She's making you clean?"

"Just my room, but it's a mess."

I nod, sitting back and looking at her. "I'll call you tomorrow."

She looks sad for some reason, so I kiss her again.

We don't leave the car for another ten minutes.

"Where'd you go?" my mom asks as I enter the house, sans Brightside. "Everyone's gone already, except for your brother, and that friend of yours—they're raiding my kitchen."

"Max go home?" I ask, avoiding the question.

She shakes her head. "He's outback, putting out the fire." She faces me again, narrowing her eyes. "You know, it's rude to abandon your guests. I know you were around here somewhere, kissing that girl. You need to learn to keep it in your pants, Edward."

"I did," I tell her, and now _I'm_ the one blushing furiously.

She lifts an eyebrow at me.

I walk past her, making a B-line out of this conversation. I know it was rude to leave earlier, but I'm not going to feel bad about it.

"I'll clean up the kitchen."

"Uh huh," she mutters under her breath.

I enter the kitchen and see it's already spotless and clean, save for the bags of chips and dips spread across the table. I spot Rosalie first, sitting next to my brother and shoot her a glare. It's silly, but it's my way of saying, 'yeah, I missed you.' She smirks back; isn't at all fazed by my threatening looks.

"Look who's back," she announces to Emmett and Alec, who turn their heads to me. I pour a glass of Coke, avoiding the _oh_ s and kissy noises they taunt at me.

"Where's Bella?" Rose asks, no longer teasing me like the others. "I missed that girl."

"That girl had to go home, she can't party all night," I tell her, shrugging. I take a seat by Alec, who's fingering my mom's queso dip like it's the best thing he's ever eaten.

"I have to go too, the girl's wondering where I'm at," he sighs, glancing up at me from his bowl o' cheese. "But this cheese is awesome."

I feel my lips tugging at the corners. "You can buy it, you know."

His eyes widen in astonishment, utterly dumbfounded by this information. "Get the fudge out of here."

I nod.

I learned a while ago that Alec's verbal filter is actually legitimate. He's so used to using filler-curses for his son's sake that now he does it all the time.

"All right man." We do this weird handshake he came up with, and Emmett gives me a look that says _you do handshakes now?_ I flip him off and take a chip while Alec leaves, still sucking cheese off his finger.

"That guy is awesome. He knows every video game ever and he eats dip like a true thug," Rose says, and Emmett frowns.

"What's your problem?" I laugh at him.

"Emmett feels like you don't need him anymore," Rose tells me, sending my brother an apologetic smile.

I frown. "What?"

There's a soft buzzing sound ringing and my ear and I drop my chip, wondering where the hell it's coming from for a few seconds.

"It's your phone, derp," Rose says, her eyes growing wide and wild. "He still does that when his phone rings? Why do people do that?"

"Oh," I mumble, retrieving it from my back pocket. I answer it automatically when I see _Brightside_ flashing across the screen. "Bella?"

There's this moment before she answers the phone when all I can hear is typical phone fuzz and someone breathing at the other end, but that's really all I need to know something's wrong. For some reason I don't need much more, I can almost feel it.

"What is it?" Rose asks, the worry clearly written across my face, I guess.

I shrug. "Bella? You there?"

There's another moment of silence, and then the sounds get a little clearer. Someone yelling in the background, Bella breathing unsteady, and then there's this:

 _"Edward, can you come over?"_

I shoot out of my chair, already waving to Rose and Emmett. "I'll be back," I tell them, turning as soon as they nod in understanding. "Yeah, I can. What's going on?"

 _"I … shit, my dad is going crazy right now. Uh … never mind, don't come over."_

I walk faster. "What do you mean he's going crazy? Did something happen when you got home?"

 _"Yeah. Someone called the house phone earlier and left a message from a hotel phone. I'm not really sure if it's her or not, but Dad swears it was."_

"A message from who?" I ask, confused.

She's quiet for a moment, and I make out the distinct sound of Charlie's angered voice in the background, grumbling something about trust. _"Um … he said he thinks it was Victoria."_

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah … *ugly cringe face***

 **I know right, where's the rest? Panic-attack boy is giving me anxiety right now O-o**

 **Thanks Fyrebyrd, who has already read way ahead of you guys and given me the confidence to post this, and the wonderful Granny Fandom for doing everything she can to try and make my words make sense.**

 **You all are so awesome and so so patient with these two, which I cannot thank you enough for. I know how extremely frustrating it is to read about two kids who very obviously cannot communicate with one another, and I know most of you are probably just waiting to figure out what the hell happens. When I started this, I was sort of living in the mindset of a teenage boy, and I felt like it would be interesting for me to write this in strictly E's point of view. Which means you get very little of what happens, and more what _he_ thinks than Bella, or his Mom, or Vic and Jim, which can be frustrating as well ... anyway, thanks for putting up with me :)**

 _ **I love you.**_


	35. October 31st, 2012 11:00 pm

**AN: Yesss I have another chapter of Lover ready! Sorry for the wait, I posted this as soon as possible. Thank you guys for reading! My prereader is Fyrebyrd89 and Frannie makes my words pretty, but I do tweak here and there.**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **October 31st, 2012**

 **11:00 p.m.**

It's just like in the movies: too quick to comprehend, but you sort of know what's going on. There are people yelling, and there's a girl in the corner, crying, and I feel bad for her, but I really want to know what the hell is happening.

"You couldn't tell me?" The man, who is yelling in the scene playing before me, is Charlie Swan.

"I didn't know it was a big deal!" That would be his wife, the woman who stood by us through thick and thin.

"It's a paper, Renee, it's simple, you sign it, you move on," he roars, the veins on his neck standing out. "I knew— _knew—_ this was a bad idea, but you didn't listen to me. You're so fucking—"

He picks up a lawn chair and kicks it, actually kicks it by the legs, into the neighbor's yard.

"Dad!" Bella screams, widening her eyes at him. She looks to me with this panicked look in her eyes, and I shrug back at her.

 _What the fuck is going on here?_

"What is she supposed to do now, Renee?" he asks his wife, who stands on the last step, holding her hand over her mouth. "You're the one who talked her into this mess!"

I furrow my eyebrows, so fucking confused but afraid to ask Charlie what's going on mid-rampage. Instead, I walk over to the edge of the lawn to meet Bella. She's red-faced and trying to control her sobs.

"What's going on?" I whisper, wrapping my arms around her shoulders to hug her tightly. She holds me back just as tight, crying into my shoulder.

"I-I don't know what happened, Victoria called and said she changed her mind," she tells me, gasping for air.

I freeze, suddenly it all clicks in my head. "Changed her mind?" I echo, shaking my head in disbelief. "How? She's been—"

It's at this moment that I don't really know what to say other than, "What the fuck?"

"I know," she says, wiping her eyes and turning to the lawn. "Dad, will you calm down!"

"They can't do this," I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.

"Oh, yes," Charlie laughs mechanically and faces me. He plants his hands on his hips nodding to Bella. "Yes, they can. This was not a legitimate adoption, as my wife just informed me."

"Legitimate?!" Renee shrieks. "Charlie, we can't _make them_ take the baby. Even if they had signed a contract, do you honestly believe—"

"You're missing my point, _Renee,"_ he retorts. "If they had signed a contract, you would've known that this was real—that they were really going to take him. I told you this was a bad idea and you had to be careful, but you don't listen, it's like talking to a fuckin' brick wall with you!"

"Ugh," Bella groans, slouching her shoulders and burying her face in her hands. "What the hell is happening right now?"

"Look at how upset she is!" Charlie yells, pointing to his daughter.

"She's upset because you won't calm down, jackass!" Renee seethes through her teeth.

I purse my lips, not _fully_ comprehending what's going on at this point. I know I should be worrying about the news—that we have no fucking idea what to do anymore—but I'm a little more concerned with Bella's parents. Did they take too many crazy pills today?

"Mom didn't know, nobody knew!" Bella cries at him. "Will you calm the hell down so I can think?"

"Think," Charlie chortles, shaking his head. He walks up to the porch to meet his wife at the top step, gesturing toward us. "I think it should be pretty obvious at this point—you're keeping the baby."

"No," Renee says firmly, moving out of Charlie's way. She looks to us, shaking her head vehemently. "You don't have to keep the baby just because they backed out—"

"Is this a joke?" he yells. "Do you know how long it took them,"—he says, motioning towards us—"to agree to this? They didn't trust them until now. It took months— _months—_ for them to agree, for them to trust those _fucking frauds_ , and you kept pushing and pushing her, telling Bella that they were good people." He gestures back to us, his eyes on Renee. "Obviously _they_ were right."

And then it clicks.

"Wait, why did they back out?" I ask, turning to Bella.

She shakes her head. "She didn't say."

I've already turned my back on her before she can finish, walking back to my car. "Where are you going?!" she screams.

"I'll be back," I call over my shoulder.

"Look at that kid, going off to find answers—, " Charlie says, almost prideful. "Edward, you can't go over there!"

I don't really know if he's rooting for me, but I can see Bella widening her arms at me. "What the fu—", she kicks the lawn chair Charlie threw earlier. "I'm going to bed. Wake me up when everyone takes a chill pill."

I hesitate then, thinking I might just stay—but no, fuck that. We had an agreement, and I want to know why they're backing out. Is it us? Did they think we wouldn't go through with it?

I grow a little angrier by the second. Why make us feel like it's okay to doubt, only to turn their backs on us so close to the baby being born?

Instead of questioning, I get in my car, ignoring the crazy family yelling at me from their front lawn—except Bella. She's already retreating into the house to take a nap, or maybe cry, I don't know at this point.

.

.

.

There's a point in my life when I look around at people and realize they're all a little crazy. And then, I look at myself, in retrospect, and realize that I'm a fucking hypocrite.

I have this little revelation when I realize my knuckles are going to bleed from incessantly knocking on Jim's door.

"Jim!" I yell. "I know you're in there, I can see—"

It's like magic.

The door flies open, revealing James Hunter in (not exaggerating) the dressiest sleep pants I've ever seen in my life, and a _Cage the Elephant_ T-shirt.

I knew that fucker slept in slacks.

"What the hell?" I widen my eyes at him.

He rubs his eyes with his palms, blinking himself awake, before squinting his eyes at me. "Edward?" he grumbles, peering over my shoulder. "What are you doing here? Where's Bella?"

I feel my eyebrows lift into my hairline.

 _Is this a fucking joke right now?_

His eyes widen. "Oh," he says, stepping back a foot.

I nod, echoing him. "Oh."

He purses his lips, reaching up to palm his cheek. "Oh shit … I'm guessing Victoria called you?"

Again, I nod, still staring at him, wondering what the fuck he's thinking. "You're serious right now? I mean, really, I feel like a fucking idiot." I laugh without humor, shaking my head at him. "We trusted you, we were ready to give our _baby t_ o you. Is this why it didn't work out for the others? You got cold feet?"

He shakes his head, but I don't care.

"Do you know how long it took for us to trust you?" I don't realize that I'm breathing harder, or that Jim is lighting up a cigarette while I rant. Not really. "Who the fuck are you, really? Are you in some church cult or something? Did you do this to us on purpose—"

"Kid, breathe," he tells me, offering me his cigarette.

"And you smoke too, that's nice," I bend at the waist, placing my hands on my knees. My shoulders heave.

"No, just today," he says, throwing his cigarette into the bush. "Edward, I'm sorry—"

"You're sorry?!" I scream, straightening. "You just ruined everything and you're fucking _sorry?"_

He nods slowly, grimacing. "Why don't you come inside?"

"I don't even know who you are, I'm not coming into your house, psycho." I try to catch my breath—having some sort of nervous breakdown. My chest feels like I'm getting stabbed, maybe it's a heart attack? In my head, I think I'd happily accept a heart attack—but no, I need to survive.

Bella needs me.

I shake my head to myself, realizing I'm such a dick for leaving her alone with her crazy family. She's probably freaking out worse than I am, and I just took off without caring about that.

"Edward, look, I know you're pissed at me—you have every right—but please give me the chance to explain. I'm not in a cult, I wanted this baby as much as Victoria."

I scoff at him, straightening my posture and whirling around to my car, ready to head back to Bella's. "Yeah, well, Victoria had the chance to explain when she left a voicemail earlier, so."

"Not me," he yells after me as I groan and walk faster, still convinced I'm having a heart attack.

I stop then, turning back to him. "Just tell me why, so I can leave."

He heaves a sigh, stepping out onto the porch and giving his vacant neighborhood a once-around before looking to me. "She's pregnant."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Victoria?" He nods. "I … I thought you couldn't have kids?"

He nods, looking around again. "I can't. It's not my kid."

I stop breathing then, and at this moment it's almost too easy to comprehend.

 _The universe does not revolve around me. I'm not the only one with issues, and my life isn't the only crazy one._

"She …?"

He reaches around to scratch at the back of his neck, grimacing. "Yeah, she cheated on me. With her assistant."

"Oh," I breathe, even though my heart is still going crazy in my chest. "Uh … I'm sorry."

He returns an apologetic smile. "No, I'm sorry. I should have called this off a while ago, but Victoria is …"

"A controlling bitch?" I reply, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, we guessed that."

His lips form into a tight line, not saying anything to defend her. "I'm really sorry about this, Edward. I wish things could be different."

Looking back at him, I know he's telling the truth. He really is sorry, and I know he wanted things to work out differently.

I look down to my feet, nodding despondently. "Yeah, well … I hope everything works out with Victoria."

"There isn't a chance of us getting back together if that's what you're implying. She took off this morning, and I forgot all about the adoption until … now."

I nod again, understanding. He's just screwed with our whole world, but what the fuck ever.

"I understand." I turn my back to him. "Thanks anyway, I guess."

I walk ahead to my car and get inside. Instead of driving off, I pull out my cellphone, avoiding the plethora of missed calls and scrolling to my last dialed number. When she picks up, she sounds calmer than I am. It makes it easier to stop freaking out for a second and just listen.

"What do we do now?"


	36. November 1st, 2012 2:11 pm

**A/N: Guys. Omg, guys...it's almost over. *sniffles* Muchas gracias to homegirls Fyrebyrd89 and Granny fandom (insert typical heart emoji). If it weren't for their encouragement (threats? *pointed look to Fyre*) I'd probably still be tweaking this right now. Fran betas but all mistakes are mine.**

 **Here's something dramatic for you.**

* * *

 **November 1** **st** **, 2012**

 **2:11 p.m.**

I am simple.

Boring.

I go to school. I try to get all As, and then I try to get all Bs, but I don't let my grades drop any lower than that because I think I might want to go to college.

I sell video games, and my best friend is a guy who thinks it's funny to stick fries in his nose. He's got a carefree attitude like Jasper, but his concerns about me are as genuine as my brothers are.

I fell in love this year. Twice, actually. It was unexpected, although I can't claim that I have any regrets. Love is sort of fucked up—it drives me insane, but I think there's something that makes it worthwhile.

The two people we trusted our world with were not bad. Their intentions were never malevolent, never detrimental, and they are not baby mongers. They knew we were battling this decision, but they were patient. They never pushed us to make a permanent decision, yet we were determined to believe there was something wrong with them. Most of our problems were in our heads … until they weren't.

I feel the softness of her palm pressing against mine, her fingernails digging into the skin above my knuckles.

"Have you gone insane?"

I stare down at the wooden table, my teeth digging into the flesh under my bottom lip.

It's all so familiar.

Like we're back to where we started. Reeky ficus trees and angry glares, no one actually paying us any attention. But this time there's another woman here who seems to be the only rational one.

"She's keeping the baby." Charlie Swan's temper shines through his dark eyes. He sends his wife an angry look I don't really understand.

I stare down at the table, mentally tracing the grooves in the wood. I can feel Bella's fingernails digging into my skin, but I don't think she realizes it.

If I close my eyes for a minute, I think I'm back at the clearing where we first met. Everything was so easy. I didn't really have anything to worry about then, but I also didn't have much to fight for either.

"Will you stop jumping to this conclusion? They don't have to keep the baby just because you think they have no other choice. Don't let anyone fool you, Bella. Not all people are the same."

"You think this is—"

If I close my eyes for a minute, I think I can tune everything out.

If I stand up and say something, I believe I can make a difference.

If I turn to the right of me, I'll see a girl who wants to say something too.

"Has anyone even asked Edward or Bella if they _want_ to keep the baby?" That's my mother, the woman I spend too much energy underestimating and underappreciating.

Bella's fingernails dig a little deeper.

"Will you stop acting as if I'm to blame for all of this?" Renee yells. "You had just as much of a right to be there for them as I did, but you chose not to be a part of it. You didn't involve yourself, you didn't step up to the plate and offer to help anyone, you sat back and watched—"

"And you deserve a gold medal?" Charlie argues. "For pretending as if they had a choice?"

"I _never_ made them feel like they didn't have a choice."

"You never made them feel like they did—"

"You weren't there, how would you know?!" Her scream cuts through me. "I told Bella—I told her all the time she didn't have to do this!"

It's like watching a tennis match. They snap at each other, back and forth, back and forth, so fast it's making my head spin.

If I tell them the truth, say what I want, I know I won't be alone.

"What do you think you're accomplishing with this? Give the kids a chance to speak," my mom says.

Three sets of eyes turn to two. Bella lets out a small gasp and releases my hand, and without it, I feel lost. Like someone just handed me a cello and asked me to play a song, but I don't even know where to start.

Everything is so quiet, and I think if I listen hard enough I could hear the erratic thumps of my son's heartbeat. It's so quick, and I know I'm not really hearing it; that's impossible, but this isn't.

In only seconds, your life could change forever. One second I was just this broody kid with hair that shielded too much of my face, wondering where my brother was. The next, I was falling in love with a smile, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Eyes that shined with life, a gorgeous face and a mind that I still can't figure out to this day.

If I did, I would stop thinking so much. I would stop asking myself questions, and I would be asking her instead.

If I asked her what she wanted, I would know that she wanted him all along.

"They don't know what they want," Charlie tells his wife. "They can't even talk to each other, Renee. Look at them."

There's this moment before I lift my eyes when I think I could make all of this easier. We could stop doubting, we could stop talking about _what if_ s and _what do you want_ s. It's not just what's best for him, or her, or me. It's about what we can and can't live without, and I know what that might be. And when I finally look at Bella, I think she knows too. We still might not have all the answers but we both know that might be okay.

Instead, I buckle out of my chair and trample over to the Swan's front door.

 _"That right there … that would be a boy," Doctor Webber points to the screen smiling._

 _I lean closer, curious about the other life. Everything is all fuzzy—like channel three. Renee does the same, inspecting the screen, and I wonder if Bella's thinking the same thing. I turn back to her and feel my face fall. She stares at the ceiling, her eyes lining with tears._

 _"Well," Renee says. Bella's eyes snap to me and she smiles. "A healthy baby boy. That's good news."_

I slide into the driver's seat and slam the car door closed. Raindrops fall from my hair and slide down my neck, soaking into my T-shirt. I breathe harder; my lungs feel so weighted that I think they're going to collapse.

 _"I just want to do what's best for everybody."_

Head shaking vehemently, I grasp onto the steering wheel and try to see out the window through the heavy downpour. My knuckles turn pale, my breathing short.

"She's a fucking liar."

I catch the wetness pooling at my jaw with the back of my hand and slap it back onto the steering wheel. I repeat the process with my cheek, again, and again, until it's just my fist slamming against the dashboard.

 _"Do … do you want to keep him?"_

I grab ahold of the steering wheel and start pounding into it, not caring if I sound off the horn or if the neighbors are staring. Each time my fist hits the car, I think that it isn't enough and I keep doing it. I start talking to myself, wondering why I couldn't just say something. I knew she wanted me to say I wanted to keep him.

"Why couldn't I"—each word slips with a hard punch―"fucking say it?"

I feel something snap within my hand and pull it back. My back melts against the seat, my hands at my face as I try to collect myself. My pulse is thundering throughout my body, zipping and zapping in every direction and pushing down to my fingertips. My heart and lungs are connected; weighty and unsteady.

My eyes fall shut as I rest my forehead against the steering wheel. And for this miniscule, blissful moment, I'm not thinking of all the things I could have said, or when I should have listened to my mother, or how fucking ridiculous it is that everyone can't be happy. I'm not even thinking about Bella. I'm just counting the raindrops, and it's simple.

Boring.

.

.

.

If you spin a coin, you can watch it go on forever. You can watch it spin, spin, spin, and just when you think it's going to fall—it keeps spinning. It'll go round and round a single circle, over and over again—forever. Until the coin starts to leave the circle, and its fluency breaks. And even when the coin leaves its circle, it keeps spinning … until it doesn't.

I jump at the feeling of fingers smoothing over mine. My eyes snap open and my body jolts with surprise when I look toward the passenger seat and see the girl who's making me spin.

"Hi," she whispers, pulling my hand into her lap. "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry about them too.

I'm sorry about a lot of things.

And then it all just pours out.

"I don't think I can do this, Bella," I tell her, rubbing my thumb over her pinky. "I don't want to go through another adoption process, and I don't want to act like I'm okay with this anymore. I can't make you do anything, and I won't, but I think all we've done in the last eight months is underestimate ourselves. And that's fine, but I know you think you aren't good enough to be a mom, and I say I would suck at being a dad, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have done it and didn't even try. Do you think you could really go through this again?"

I force myself to look back at her. She's staring out the window with slouched shoulders, breathing heavily.

"I … no. I don't think I could, Edward."

"Because everyone else doesn't want you to?" I ask, the thickness in my throat turning sour, making the air around me thin and hard to breathe.

If this is why she can't go give him away, she'll never forgive herself. And I wonder, in retrospect, which fate seems worse. Wishing she could be with him, or resenting him?

"No." She shakes her head, pushing her fingers between mine. "Because _I_ don't want to."

And for a minute, we're not thinking about everyone else.

She's not thinking about adoption, or her parents, and I'm not doubting anymore because I know the truth. And I'm not spinning, spinning, anymore; it all just falls into place.

* * *

 **AN: Whew…dramalama. *pats them on back and sings "We've only just begunnn"* Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing :) I love hearing your thoughts and guesses about what happens next for these two, they make my day. If you have any questions, like wtf just happened up there ^^ I'll try my best to answer them. I will make one thing clear if you haven't guessed already: you will get a glimpse(s) of them in the future, but this fic focuses particularly on the beginning of ExBs story.**


	37. November 22nd, 2012

**A/N: This is the last regular chapter of Lover of The Light. After this, there are 3 lengthy epilogues, but from here I'm wrapping everything up.**

 **Thank you guys, so, so, so much for sticking with me through all of this. It's been a bumpy ride, but this is the beginning. Thank you SunflowerFran for all of your beta skills, and Fyrebyrd89 for prereading and re-prereading this.**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **November 22** **nd** **, 2012**

You can spend weeks, months— _years_ contemplating the most important decision of your life. You can fear every outcome, dread every possibility, worry, worry, and worry some more.

Nothing can possibly prepare you for the moment when it happens. There's this moment when I think I finally have it all figured out, and then my decisions come alive, and I doubt everything all over again.

My decision is born on a Thursday, Thanksgiving evening to be exact.

I don't know it's happening yet. I'm oblivious to anything going on outside the walls of my own home.

Emmett's pissed that he can't beat me at _Mortal Kombat_. I told him once and I'll say it again, "You'll never destroy Johnny Cage."

"Douche." He throws his controller. It knocks me on the foot, and I chuck it back at his head.

The first time she calls, Emmett has me in a chokehold on the living room floor.

I'm laughing too loudly to hear the sound of my phone buzzing away on the end table, and Rose doesn't notice either because she's screaming at us to stop killing each other.

The second time she calls, my mom is yelling at the three of us.

She slaps Emmett upside the head and tells him he's an idiot for almost killing his brother. Then she turns to me and says that I need to grow up, that I'm going to be a father soon so I need to start acting like one.

I'm holding an ice pack to my neck when I tell her, "I don't know how a father is supposed to act." Which is around the same time that Bella leaves me a voicemail.

Mom laughs. She hugs me and tells me to take out the garbage for starters.

I miss two more calls when I'm taking out the trash. For some reason, I feel a little off as I'm stuffing garbage bags in the dumpster back in the alleyway behind my house. I don't know what it is; just that something feels out of place.

For once in my life, I brush the feeling to the side. I tell myself that I don't have any reason to worry. I'm the anxiety kid, mr. freakoutovernothing.

 _Everything is okay,_ I tell myself, because it is.

Ironically, it's not. For once, I _do_ have a reason to worry.

I don't know yet that Bella is at the hospital and that the other life wants to come two weeks early. Not until my mom tells me to clean up the living room and I notice the light flashing on my phone.

All my life, I was sure I knew what panicking was. I mean, I experienced an almost-not-really-heart-attack at least five times in the last six months. Admittedly, I know a thing or two about anxiety.

Panicking:

It's when I pick up my phone to discover that I've missed six calls from Bella and two from her mother and my heart stops completely. My chest gets really warm and tight, and I can't breathe because I know that in just a few short hours, my entire life is about to change.

It's when I'm halfway to the hospital and Emmett has to drive the rest of the way because he thinks I'm going to get us killed. I don't want to die yet, so I let him take the wheel.

"Hey bro, you have to relax." He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I nod. I shake my head. I nod again.

 _Calm, calm, CALM … I can be fucking calm._

My life is sort of spinning away, right before my eyes. One second I'm freaking out in the car, the next I'm at Bella's side, and everything stands still.

"Edward!" she cries out, but she's laughing for some reason. Her face is flushed, eyes bright, and a brilliant smile spread across her face. "Holy cow, I didn't think you'd make it."

"It's Emmett's fault," I blurt out, enveloping her in my arms. "What the hell happened?"

Bella tells me that she was about to go HAM on a chocolate pie when her water broke.

"Did you at least get to eat the pie?" Is Emmett's greatest concern.

Bella shakes her head and purses her lips, looking gravely disappointed. "No."

Charlie snorts. I look up to see Renee under his arm. He throws me a wink. "She tried."

Bella shrugs, shameless. "You'd try too."

I laugh.

Learning that I'm not the only one who's afraid.

Afraid.

It's when we're alone in the room and Bella is crying in her hands. "I'm so scared, Edward. What if we mess up?"

We're going to mess up … over and over again. But instead of dwelling on this fact I kiss both of her cheeks and hold her hand. Her brown eyes are lined with tears when I pull away.

"We're going to make mistakes, Brightside." I kiss the inside of her wrist.

Realizing that I don't know what to do is a whole different ordeal.

It's when she says:

 _"I can't do this."_

 _"What if I do it wrong?"_

 _"What if I accidentally kill him?"_

I don't know where she comes up with this shit, but I try to tell myself that it's going to be okay.

For three hours, anyway.

Until Bella starts pushing, and then I start doubting.

Doubting:

It's watching the girl you smile for scream bloody murder as the other life rips its way through her.

It's glaring at her mother and wanting to rip her head off for convincing her daughter not to take the fucking epidural.

Again, it's when she says:

 _"I can't do this."_

And then there's the most important part of our decision…

Having the confidence to hold her head, look into her eyes and say, "Yes you can, and you're so fucking beautiful but, Brightside, you're hurting my hand."

Moments after, there's a cracking sound, but it's not my hand this time; it's the beginnings of the sound of a loud, squealing infant.

Seeing him for the first time is so simple. I'm not doubting, panicking, I don't have any reason to freak out at all because he's here and he's okay. He's screaming his head off just to let us know, and we do. It's absolutely the most amazing thing I've ever felt in my entire life.

And then Brightside—the girl who taught me it's okay to smile without a reason—turns to me and gasps. Her eyes look wide, kind of terrified, but the curve at the left corner of her lips would suggest otherwise.

"Channel three?"

Everyone looks at us like we're fucking crazy, and I can't help but bust out laughing. It's choked, kind of terrified.

We don't know where we go from here, but we do know that we're not alone. Our whole world is here, and I don't have a doubt in the world that he belongs with us.

Love:

It's crazy and confusing, and more than anything, I wish I knew sooner that this was going to be us.

This is new beginnings.


	38. Year 1 Part 1

**A/N: hiii! *waves frantically*...yes, this is 3,500 words. I had to split this in half, since I had written over 15,000 final words. We have fyrebirch89 (she's a birch now) to thank for these lengthy futuretakes i'm posting. She encouraged me to give you guys everything, the good, the ugly, the beautiful, everything.**

 **this is not going to be the prettiest end you've ever seen. you will see them struggle, but I do promise an HEA, then...**

 **ILY.**

 **Fran betas for me, but I have a serious problem when it comes to leaving my words alone. All mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 **Year 1**

 **Part 1**

The struggle is fucking real.

Don't get me wrong, I never expected it to be easy. But until recently, I had no idea what 'the struggle' truly meant.

I'm seventeen, have a kid I never get to see, a girlfriend who dropped out of school to take care of him, and a job that should offer benefits for the amount of hours I work. My life is now what you call "taking it day by day", a constant struggle of trying to make ends meet, see my new family, and hope that one day I'll have the means to make us whole.

I try to remind myself that it's worth it. Sometimes it's difficult to keep my mind from lurking in the dark place it nestled in for years. Bella makes it easier for me to see the light, but I still wonder what all of this means.

Often I wonder how we got here. Mostly, I wonder why I didn't think we could do it before. Why I didn't think I was good enough.

Why didn't I see this before? Why didn't I see how much I could be for them?

Some days I feel almost proud of myself, proud of Bella. It's sort of incredibly mind blowing to watch the life I've spent the last months worrying over turn into … an actual life. I hadn't expected it to feel so natural to take responsibility for something that once made me feel so debilitated.

There's was an odd sense of strength that came with holding Landon Carlisle for the first time. I realized I would do anything for him as soon as I looked down at his chubby little face, and I did.

Most days I'm too busy to notice how much everything has changed.

The first two months worked out great. Esme watched the baby when Renee and Charlie couldn't, but he stayed at Bella's parents' house fulltime. It wasn't long before our parents' schedules began overlapping. That's when Bella put her foot down and decided _she_ was going to take care of him rather than attend school.

He's her responsibility. Therefore, any trouble he's causing our parents is _her_ fault.

Bella's logic is fucking ridiculous, but I didn't get a say in that decision. She did that one on her own.

The worst part: she was three months from graduating when she dropped out of school.

Now she has a part-time job at a resale clothing shop, _Lilly's,_ while she's studies to get her GED. When I'm not working, Landon Carlisle stays at my place with me. That struggle is real too.

"Edward," Mom mumbles patiently from the doorway. "You have to pat his back, honey. Soothe him."

I clench my teeth.

 _I am 'soothing' him._

Landon (we seem to call him LC a lot these days—which sounds more like "Elsie" when you say it out loud—but whatever) doesn't cry like this with Bella. She has this magic touch that makes the crying stop and the giggling begin. Neither Esme nor I possess that kind of talent.

I'm raging.

Not really, I'm just trying to understand why I can't get my kid to stop crying.

"Edward," she repeats louder so that I can hear her over the wailing. I hold my breath and puff my cheeks out, cocking my head back to look at Mom.

"What?" I snap.

She extends her arms before me, her expression nothing but understanding. My eyes soften, immediately regretting my earlier attitude with her. My mom has been patient with me—but most of all, Landon.

Esme isn't the same person she was a year ago; she doesn't drink, doesn't leave for days at a time, and she tells me exactly when she's leaving so I know if she'll be here to help me or not. The sad part is that I never noticed how much I needed her until I saw how much Landon needed me.

She doesn't deserve all the shit I give her.

"How about I take the baby while you do your homework?" she asks.

I glance down at the red-faced baby in my arms, wishing I knew how the Jedi mind trick works.

 _Please stop crying._

 _Please don't let Mom think I'm not capable of doing this._

"I'm sorry," I mumble as I pass him to her. "Maybe he needs to eat again?"

 _I want my girlfriend. Where the fuck is she?_

 _Not trying to study and hold a baby; that's where she is._

"You're getting frustrated." She holds the baby in one arm and uses the other to run her fingers through my hair. "I know it's hard, but it won't be like this forever, baby. Think about what you're doing this for. It's going to be worth it in the end."

"Worth it?" I repeat, turning into a snide prick in two seconds. I don't know where my attitude comes from, but I can't seem to control it. "Bella isn't even in school—"

"But she will be," she talks over me. "These things take time. I know you don't approve of her decision to leave school, but she promised to enroll in college next year."

"Community college," I correct. "And that's not fair; she's worked her entire life to go to some fancy four-year college and—"

"Bella's a smart girl, Edward," she interrupts. She smiles down at Landon. "She just had a little bump, that's all. She'll get back on track, just like you." She winks. "Mr. Graduate."

I'm nowhere near _on track_ , although my mother is right about one thing: Graduation is only two months away.

Once Mom takes LC away, I realize can't remember anything I read while I was holding him. It's as though all information was erased from my brain, so I flip back a few chapters to reread.

I force myself to skim through the first few paragraphs, finding it difficult to focus over squeals sounding from the next room.

My knees bounce with anxiousness, my body aching to go in there to find out what's going on. I try to read and comprehend quicker, wishing I could just be done with it already. Eventually, I can't take it anymore, so I flip the book closed and launch off the bed, just as everything goes silent.

My eyebrows draw together in confusion.

 _Sorcery …_

I put away my things and exit my bedroom to locate them. Less than halfway to the point between my room and the living room, I stop upon hearing a strange squeaking sound. He's … _laughing?_

The reason becomes clear when I enter the living room and spot my mother and Bella sitting on the couch. Landon lies on Bella's lap with his feet in her hands while she tickles his belly.

Relief crashes over me, and I feel my knees buckling at the sight.

 _Thankyouthankyouthankyou._

Bella is still in her work uniform, hair back and eyes sparkling down at our whole world. She lifts a foot to her mouth and blows a raspberry, eliciting a high-pitched squeak from him.

"Silly boy … you have to let Daddy study," she murmurs, drawing circles around his feet. Landon stuffs two fingers in his mouth, sounding off nonsense between them. She sighs. "You don't care about any of that, do you? You just want to play all night."

It's not often I see them together like this. Sometimes once, maybe twice a week we get a moment alone, but other than that ...

My chest feels tight and full, seeing the good thing we almost gave up, laughing with the girl who gave him life.

He doesn't even know.

I step into the living room to make my presence known, clearing my throat. "What are you doing here? I thought you didn't get off until ten."

Bella's looks to me, surprised. "Oh no … were we too loud?" she asks worriedly. I shake my head and walk over to kiss her.

"No, I'm finished. School is kicking my ass," I explain, taking a seat on the arm of the couch as Bella adjusts LC on her knee to face us. "Landon wanted to help me out, apparently."

"Poor boy was screaming his head off," Mom interjects. "Summer will be easier, but I don't think an apartment would be the best thing for the two of you at the moment."

We turn to her, wearing similar puzzled expressions. "Mom"—I shake my head—"we're moving in together. Bella's had LC for the last six months; we want to be together. We can do this."

Mom's expression shifts from worrisome to contemplative. "I'm not saying that you _couldn't_ do it; I'm saying that you should give it a little more time. High school graduates struggle enough on their own, but you have a baby to care for. Not only to be juggling a job and a baby but school as well; it's just so much work." She brings a hand to her cheek, sending me an apprehensive look.

Bella and I look at each other before turning back to her. "We know," we say in unison.

"We want to be a family, Esme," Bella whispers, smiling down at Landon. He looks from me to Bella before his entire body curls up.

Guess he's finally doing a number two.

"We want to be together," I finish, reaching down to grab LC's hand. "Right, Landon? We scaring you shitless with this talk?"

Bella laughs before looking up to me. Her eyes are glimmering with a smile. "It won't be that bad, Edward. We both have jobs, and a strong support system … it'll be work, but worth it."

I nod in agreement, feeling my lips tug with a small smile.

 _Worth it._

 _._

 _._

 _._

"He's cute," Renee says, pinching Landon's cheeks. "But he keeps his grandpa up all night again and we're going to have problems."

I know she's teasing, but often I deem her comments condescending. Last week, Bella was called into work last minute. She left the baby with her mom, and when she returned, Renee gave her hell for not asking sooner.

Sometimes I think I'd rather leave Landon with Max.

"He's not bugging anybody," Charlie objects, reaching into Landon's car seat to unbuckle him. "You hear the news, little guy? Mommy got her diploma today"—he lifts him from the seat—"well, a good enough one—but you have to remember this day because we're so proud of her. Mommy and Daddy are working their butts off; doing everything they can to give you a good life."

Renee smiles, and my jaw drops.

"That's right," she murmurs, turning to face me. She assess my outfit for a moment before nodding. "We'll see you tonight? Midnight?"

I nod, snatching my keys off the kitchen table. I kiss Landon's cheek. "I'll be back with Mommy later, buddy," I promise him. "Be good for Grandma and Grandpa." I turn to Renee. "Thanks again for doing this."

She waves dismissively. "Don't mention it."

Fifteen minutes later, I'm sitting in my car outside of Bella's work, wondering why I didn't reserve this time for a nap instead.

 _Because I love Brightside._

 _Because we're not lame._

 _Because we can still be kids, and have a kid._

It's ridiculously hard to get a moment alone with Bella. I know this is one of the many consequences of our decision, but I'm lucky to win a second to hug her, let alone kiss her on the mouth.

I've never been good at romance; this much is obvious. I had to get drunk and stoned to muster the courage to kiss Bella the first time, and I didn't even ask her if it was okay beforehand. I said, "Fuck it" and dived in without warning. Not that Bella ever complained, but I'm not exactly sixteen and scared to kiss her anymore. Tonight is about showing her romance; although I have a hunch she's going to be pretty pissed with me for not warning her.

"Hey," she greets as she climbs into the car. She stops and peers to the backseat, frowning. "Where's Landon?"

I suck air between my teeth. "I forgot him."

Her eyes go wide. "What?!" She delivers a hard punch to my right bicep. I bust out laughing. "Stop messing with me, where is he? You didn't really leave him with your mom, did you? She has to work, I told her you would—"

I shake my head, composing myself. "Come on, Bella. I would never forget him." I send her a downhearted frown. "I can't believe you forgot what tonight is."

Her bottom lip juts out, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

"W … what?" She stares at the roof, as if she's trying to recall what she might've said in the last few hours. I lift an eyebrow, taunting her. "Um … I-I don't—"

"Um," I mock her tone, glancing out the window coolly. "Think, Bella … it starts with a P?"

I turn back to see her lips twisting in puzzlement. "P … Push-Pops?"

I throw my head back, chuckling. "Is it always food with you?" I ask, laughing so hard my stomach aches.

She punches my arm again and I cower backward. "Quit laughing at me, jerk! And why are you dressed up? Where's the baby?"

"Parents," I manage, still trying to contain myself. I'm uncharacteristically excited for tonight.

She relaxes back into her seat, closing the car door so the lights dim. She puffs her cheeks, shaking her head. "I don't remember, Edward."

I stare at her for a moment longer before I decide I'm done torturing her. "Prom," I answer.

She pales. "What?" She shakes her head vehemently. "Edward, _no_."

I scratch my cheek, nodding. "You promised."

"A _year_ ago!" she yells over me. "No—no way."

"A promise is a promise, Bella." I shrug, leaning forward to crank the car. "You can't back out now, we're already on our way."

"I-I," she stutters, crossing her arms over her chest. "Turn the car around, Edward. I swear—"

I shake my head.

"Why are you doing this to me? I don't even have a dress."

"You bought one last year."

She snorts. "How'd you know that?"

"I'm a mind reader?" I form it into a question, matching her tone. "Kidding, Rose told me. It's in the back."

I see her pout in my periphery. "I'm too fat to wear that."

"You gained like two pounds after Landon was born, Bella."

I don't really know that, but she still looks the same to me. Beamy and beautiful as always. She acts like she gained a hundred pounds.

"I hate you."

I stop the car then, sighing. I shift in my seat to face her. "If you're really going to hate me for this, then we won't go. But I know your friends miss you, Bella. They worry about you and ask about you all the time. Also, I didn't get the chance to do this last time." She fidgets in her seat, fumbling with her hands in a nervous gesture. "What?"

"But …" She shakes her head. "Everyone knows I dropped out—"

"So what?" I reply. "No one cares about what you did yesterday, they only care about what you're doing today."

I have no idea where that one came from, but I think it was another one my dad probably said to Emmett or me when we were little.

She continues to munch on her lip, looking between me and the road. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she finally manages a small nod.

I smirk and lean over the console to kiss her. "Thank you," I mumble against her lips. I reach into the back while I'm kissing her and pull back once I find what I'm looking for. I throw the box holding a corsage in her lap. "Now put that thing on, we're going to be late."

She throws her head back and laughs. "That thing?"

I nod and pick up the box to pull out a white corsage. "Yep." I slip the band under my fingers to hold it over her wrist. "Let's try this one more time. Bella Swan."

She sighs, fighting a smile twitching at the corners of her lips. "Yes?"

"I know that I have the most inconvenient timing, and it didn't occur to me to do this until six hours ago"—she snorts a laugh—"but it's important to me that we do this one last thing to do before we go back to our normal life. A very, _very_ important sanctification—"

"Sanctification?" she interjects.

"Shh, I'm speaking," I continue, "Bella Swan, will you please go to prom with me?"

She blinks. "This is going to suck, but … fine, I'll go to prom with you."

I can hardly contain my smile.

Because just for tonight, we get to be kids again.

.

.

.

The mall during the summer: hell.

"What do you mean you're 'out'?"

I want to go home.

No, I don't even know where home is. Bella is home. Landon is home. I do not have a home without them; which is why I work here. To make money. To support home.

"It's, ah—"

"Borderlands 2 was just released," he snaps. "How are you already out of stock?"

I stare ahead, wondering what exactly this guy wants from me. "It's … Out. Of. Stock."

Dude's eyes grow huge, bewildered.

" _Hello_." Alec jumps in, wearing a friendly smile for the rude customer while glaring in my direction. "How are you doing today, sir?"

"How am I doing?" he repeats, sending me a pointed look. "I've just been told that Border …" Tune out … I tune it all out. Nothing else is entering this brain today.

It's like I'm stuck in reverse. Everything is backward. Each step I take, anything I hear, it's all wrong.

It's been almost six days since I've seen Bella. Monday she had an early doctor appointment with LC before she went to work. Tuesday, I had Landon all morning but had to drop him off with Renee so I could go to work. Wednesday and Thursday went the same; both of us working and leaving the baby with our parents. Friday and Saturday, I worked ten hours and passed out before I even got the chance to call her. Today I'm working until ten, and tomorrow …

"You excited about college, dude-bro?" Alec asks, slapping a hand on my shoulder. I watch as the rude dude from earlier walks out of the store with a smile on his face. "Come on, you've had all summer. Don't look so bummed."

Tomorrow I start college.

"I'm not," I lie. "We were supposed to look into apartments this summer, but that didn't happen. We … didn't have time."

"Don't rush it, Edward. You've both been busy, trying to spend time together and working … I know how it is. Just talk to Bella about it. It's never too late."

I nod.

One thing I learned this year: we don't work the same unless we're together. We can't be partners— _parents—_ unless we're together. The first eight months of Landon's life has been spent moving back and forth between Bella's house and mine. His room is at Bella's parents' house, but he's _constantly_ moving. There is no system we abide by when raising him; he's never in one place for too long and it has to change.

.

.

.

"I'm moving out," I announce when I get home Monday afternoon, tossing my backpack to the floor.

Mom and Max transfer their gazes from the television to me.

Es purses her lips. "Hi, honey … how was school?"

"It was school. It sucked, but I'm making progress in life, so that's good," I rant on, getting completely off topic. I stop myself before I forget what I was meaning to say. "Nevermind—I need to get Bella and Landon out of there. This isn't healthy, we're going to die if we keep this up."

Mom muffles a laugh into her hand. "Edward, sweetheart, you've gone insane."

I huff and scrub a hand through my hair. "Yeah, I know. So, look, I'm not rich or anything but I have just enough in my savings to get an apartment. The first two month's rent, maybe. I don't have credit, though, so maybe I can sell a kidney? I—"

"I know a place near FCC that would be good for you," Max interrupts. Mom turns to give him a questioning look. He shrugs and faces me. "Credit won't be a problem, and utilities are covered with rent—I can help you out if you want."

I grin.

I knew I liked that fucker for a reason.

* * *

 **A/N: I'll post yr1 prt 2 in like a day-ish. Thank you for reading!**


	39. Year 1 Part 2

**A/N: sigh...these kids are growing up. Slowly...they're learning and communicating :) Fyrebirch89 is my prereader, and Fran makes my words pretty, but I do polish, thus all errors are mine.**

* * *

 **Year 1**

 **Part 2**

Brightside turns our shoebox into a home. She finds bright, sunflower patterned curtains to hang in our living room and a mustard colored rug to match it. I don't have the heart to tell her how horrifically ugly it is; I love it because she does.

Landon's room is small, but it's perfect for now. Bella had everything he needed at her parents' place, thanks to her family and mine.

Before we even moved in together, Jasper and Alice sent us a fancy crib that transforms into a toddler bed for the baby to use when he gets older. It has drawers attached, along with a changing table. Mom took the baby for the night to give us the free will to unpack, but Bella and I have spent the last three hours trying to figure out how to assemble this fucking crib.

"We won't have to worry about buying him a new bed for like five years," Bella says, sighing in contentment as we look at the finished bed. "Just a mattress, thank god."

I nod in agreement. "Your brother is awesome."

I watch her hang pictures on the living room walls, which also serves as a hallway to our bedroom. Most of the images are new, but the oldest is my favorite. It's the one Rosalie snuck on the first night we met; the same night channel three was conceived. It sits in a silver frame with Rosalie's note still attached to the back.

We spend the rest of the night unpacking our own clothes. I don't have much, but Bella has more clothes than she needs. The thing that beats me is ... she wears more of my clothes than she does her own.

"Seriously? You're a hoarder," I state as I watch her stuff a garbage bag into the closet.

"Keep chugging that haterade," she grumbles, shooting me a glare. "I'm a girl, Edward. This is completely normal."

I help her anyway.

We can't afford a bed, so we put our twins together and throw a huge sheet over the top.

"We'll get a real one soon," I promise. I chew on my bottom lip as I stare at the makeshift bed. We're supposed to be making a list of stuff we need for the kitchen, but I could care less about that with the bed in front of us.

She nods, smiling a little. She doesn't care if we don't have a bed. She's just happy to be together.

"So…" she trails off, looking between the bed and me.

In a split second, we're on our hands and knees, crawling to each other. My lips are on hers, warm and wet and everything I've ached for in the last year. She's pushing her hands through my hair and moaning into my mouth. Every muscle in my body is tensing with anticipation, and I can't get enough of her.

Her mouth moves open and slow over my chest, and I hear the seams of her shirt ripping under my fingers.

"Fuck," I breathe, grimacing. "Sorry. Good thing you have ten million shirts."

She laughs and drags me over her body, between her legs. I've never felt so belonged.

I run my palms under shirt, along her curves.

"Come on, country boy," she whispers. "Show me what it's like to be yours."

I start kissing her everywhere, hungry and dying a little more with each sound she fills the air with. Under her wrist, I let my lips linger while impatient-and-hasn't-had-sex-in-forever pops the button open on my jeans. I almost whimper at the mitigation.

"Slow," I breathe, but I'm being ripped apart inside. My chest tenses as she sheds her shirt beneath me. My eyes are drawn to everything else but hers.

Purple.

I know it's a little fucked up.

We're supposed to be unpacking.

But how am I supposed to stop?

My heartbeat doubles with anticipation. I don't mind it. This isn't a panic attack, it's all Bella. My eyes are hazy and my fingers are everywhere they shouldn't be, seeking places only I'm allowed to seek. Her back arches as I push my fingers down, down, and she cries out when they brush along her folds.

"Slow," I say, maybe just to torture her a little more.

She groans and pushes her front toward me. I smirk, a bit too smug, and place a kiss on her collarbone.

"Stop." Her voice cracks, and I immediately remove my hand from her pants. I lift my head, and notice her eyes lining with tears.

My heart plummets. "What's wrong?"

Her bottom lips quivers. "Shit."

I get to my knees and pull her with me, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She tightens her legs around my waist, sobbing into my neck. "Bella," I repeat, desperate to know what the fuck is happening. "Brightside, please tell me what's wrong."

"I d-don't," she hiccups and groans. "Have a condom."

I've never tried so hard not to laugh at an unfunny situation in my life.

"Bella." I bite my lip, stifling a chuckle. I can't believe I'm still hard after seeing her like this. "Bella, will you please stop fucking crying? I have a condom."

She sobs harder. "Don't tell me not to cry." She shoves me back. "I love him, but I c-can't—"

"Shh," I shut her up again with my lips, pushing her back down on the bed. "Bella, I know. I have a condom. Shut up and let me make you come."

The crying stops and laughing starts.

She kisses me back with as much fervor as I used earlier.

Then I have the most important revelation of this year, one that probably could've gotten me a lot farther had I noted it sooner:

 _Women are fucking crazy_.

"Take my pants off," she rasps, throwing her head back.

The beds split further apart.

My elbows sink between the mattresses.

We laugh and roll to the other side, to my old bed. She lifts her hips to help me slide off her pants. I fight with the black stretch cotton on her legs.

"What the fuck are these?" I complain, throwing the hazardous material across the room.

"Leggings," she says, blinking at me. She wraps her legs around my waist before I get the chance to bitch about how inconvenient they are, pulling my hips to hers. My chest tightens, and her warmth draws me in.

I reach down to the place I had started from before she began crying, testing my fingers along her skin and keeping my eyes trained on her face. Her eyes fall shut and her body arches against mine. "Now. Please, Edward—"

"Just once," I beg, kissing along her jaw.

She falls apart slowly, unraveling and tightening, pulling me closer and hugging me harder. I smile when she stops breathing and her hand clasps onto my forearm. Her eyes are squeezed closed and fingernails pinched into my back, but I don't fucking care.

"Come on, Brightside," I plead, brushing lips against the corner of her mouth, and down the underside of her neck. Her hips lift from the mattress and push my fingers deeper. I take her nipple into my mouth and she cries out. "Show me what it's like to be mine."

Her mouth opens and a cry slips, her frame shuddering against mine while I bring her higher.

"Brightside beautiful," I murmur. Her body relaxes against the bed, eyes opening heavy.

She swallows thickly and gasps. "Holy crap—condom?"

I grab onto her hips, rolling us over. "Front pocket."

Her hair falls around my face, and I tuck her it behind her ear while she searches my jeans. She retrieves the packet and holds it in the air, eyeing me skeptically.

"How long have you had this?"

I chew on my bottom lip. "Um … sometime after you told me you were pregnant with channel three," I recall, nodding.

She's about to ask me something else, but I push her back and rip the packet open.

We fight with jeans and boxer briefs, and kick them across the room. I roll the condom down my length, feeling some odd sense of relief when I do. I mean, this sucks, but fuck—

"Better safe than sorry?" says the mind reader I fell in love with.

I nod, settling between her legs again. I line up with her and she whimpers, wrapping her legs around my hips to push me inside. I drop my head to her shoulder.

"Edward," she whispers, tightening her legs and fingers around me, pulling me deeper. "We're safe. Please."

I nod, craning my head to look at her as I continue, painfully slow, watching and struggling to show her I can be patient. Her eyes are closed and I feel her around me, flaring and pulsing, everything worth waiting for.

My muscles coil and tremor with restraint, my chest tight and the air surrounding me thicker and harder to breathe. She's intoxicating, vanilla and all natural lavender scented, gripping me and pulling back and pushing me back out.

I realize I'm not all the way in and drop more of my weight over her, sinking completely.

"Fuck," I half yell, half moan, believing I've just discovered heaven in Brightside's body.

She screams and I can't hear it, my hips already moving in tune with hers.

"Edward." Shaky hands pull me closer. I try to keep my eyes open and on hers, but it's hard to do that and be strong. She kisses me once, twice, and I thrust faster on instinct. "Please don't stop."

I shake my head.

 _Is she fucking crazy?_

"Help me," I beg, pushing her legs open wider and placing my hand between us. She moans and closes her eyes. "Open your eyes and show me how to make you feel good, Brightside."

"You already know." She reaches between us and guides my hand where it's supposed to be, showing me how she likes to be touched.

My arms shake, muscles burn.

I want slow, safe and patient, but my body doesn't fucking care what I want. I pull her hand away and shift to get as deep as possible, making her scream and my torso light up with rapid-spreading fire.

We're pushing and pulling to one another, nails scratching and moans sounding off higher than ever because nobody we give a fuck about is listening.

I'm trying not to let go, but she's wrapped around me too tight and baiting me farther with quivery legs and unrelenting fingernails. Sweat beads and slides from the back of my neck, and I can't do it anymore.

"It's too much," I rasp out. Her fingers tighten in my hair, blinking open heavy eyelids to show me her chocolate browns.

"Let go," she tells me.

And I do.

Higher and deeper than ever, I kiss her to cover the sounds coming up from my chest.

.

.

.

I don't know how she does it.

We both have to be at school at eight in the morning. Between midnight and three, while I'm trying to sleep, Landon doesn't play that game. He doesn't care if his parents have to get up early, this kid wants to make incoherent noises and keep his mom up all night.

"Sleep," Bella said, like it's fucking possible. "I got it, alright? Go back to sleep."

Although unconsciousness is threatening to pull me under, I'm infatuated with the girl in the next room.

It's her birthday today. Eighteen, and she gets diapers and restless baby birthday treatment. Yet I can still hear her, in the next room, laughing.

That's Brightside.

She's been doing this for eight months, and here I am, ready to slam my head through the mattress to muffle the sounds.

"Please, let her sleep," I say to no one. "Just an hour or something, please."

I check the time on my phone.

Four-thirty.

I roll to Bella's bed and groan into her pillow. I feel drugged and sleepy as soon as I inhale. It's Brightside organics-scented.

My eyes snap open to red alarm clock, five-twenty and suckling noises.

 _Sleep._

I spot Brightside on my old bed with LC kicked back on her arm, holding the bottle for himself while she struggles to keep sleepy lids open.

I strain to pull my weight into sitting position, blinking awake. I hold my arms out. "Give him here, I can do it."

Her head snaps up. "Huh?"

I nod, reaching out to take LC. "I got him," I insist, taking warm baby and world in my arms. He stops sucking on his bottle, smiling around the nipple. It's a look that says, _'Good luck, sucker.'_

I right him on my arm and turn to Bella. She's already falling asleep, hunched over, sitting. "Sleep," I say, giving her shoulder a gentle shove.

"Don't tell me what to do," she mumbles but falls back against the bed anyway. "Don't let him suck on air."

I yawn.

I blink and it's five-forty, mini-me is drinking from an empty bottle.

"Shit," I whisper, wondering if I closed my eyes or fell asleep. I pull the bottle from his mouth, chewing my bottom lip as I gaze down at him. His eyes are wide open. "You didn't suck in the air, did you?"

He blinks.

I pull Landon up to my chest, trying to coax a burp out of him. "I'm sorry," I whisper, sliding off the bed to carry him from the room. He rests his head on my shoulder. "I really suck at this. I wish I could be more like Mommy. She knows everything."

"Eh," he agrees casually. He burps several times on the walk to his bedroom.

"Let's try this one more time." I slide him down to the crib and don't bother covering him. I unsnap the first few buttons on his onesie. "How can you sleep with this thing choking you?"

He's wide fucking awake.

I slide down to the floor and stick my hand between the bars of his baby jail, letting him hold onto my fingers. I watch him as he grows bored with my fingers and his eyelids get heavy. He drifts slowly, slowly, and I follow right behind him.

"Edward."

I groan.

Something nudges my shoulder.

"Edward, it's eight-fifteen."

My eyes snap open and focus on Landon. He's still grasping my fingers, but his eyes are closed, his belly moving up and down with tiny, sleeping-baby breaths. My lips twitch at the corners, my eyelids slinking closed, already half asleep.

"Edward," she hovers over my dying carcass. "Edward, come on. You're late for school."

My heart stops. I'm off the floor and on my feet in seconds, running to the bathroom. "Fuck!"

.

.

.

Brightside's birthday is celebrated at her parents' house with Mom and Max, Jasper, Pixie girl, Rosalie, and Em. We eat spaghetti and birthday cake, and Bella has LC try frosting for the first time. His reaction is kind of the best thing I've ever seen. His face wrinkles up, fingers curling, a smile of delight spreading across his face.

"Bah!" he yells, reaching out for Bella, or maybe just her cake.

"Oh no," Jasper says, chuckling. "Son of a sugar addict."

"You shouldn't have done that," Renee says, shaking her head. I clench my hands into fists to keep them from twitching toward her neck. "It's bad enough that you refuse to breastfeed him. Now you're feeding him these toxins?"

Bella looks from her mom to the floor, and all eyes turn to Renee. "I can't breastfeed," she whispers. "He wouldn't latch on."

"How would you know? You only tried once, you didn't give him the chance—"

"Renee," Charlie begins, sighing.

"He's our son, Renee," I say through my teeth. "If Bella doesn't breastfeed, excuse me for my language, but it's none of your fucking business."

Jasper's jaw drops and Charlie sighs.

Renee's head snaps to me. "Excuse me? He's my grandson; I have every right to be concerned about what you put into his body."

"Mom," Bella groans, pushing her plate back. "Stop it—"

"You have a right to share your opinion," I agree. "That doesn't mean you get to make Bella feel like shit for not raising our son how you think is best."

"She is _eighteen_ years old," she replies, glaring in my direction. "She doesn't know _how_ to raise a child. She could use some guidance."

" _Guidance,_ Mom," Jasper chimes in. "She doesn't need you to judge her, she needs your help."

Renee turns to Bella. She's still staring down at her lap and wringing her hands together as LC tries to grab for her.

"Ah!" he yelps, opening and closing his hands in a grabby motion. She quickly turns her head to him and he smiles as soon as she faces him. He giggles lowly, red, chubby cheeks puffing out. "Ah!"

Bella removes Landon from his highchair just as Renee sighs in exasperation.

"I do owe you an apology, Bella," she begins calmly. "Edward's right, I could've gone about stating my opinion differently, but please try to understand that I'm only trying to help you, not bring you down."

Bella nods and winces when LC tugs on her hair. "I know I'm not perfect, but I'm trying."

I realize it's probably the best and worst thing I could've done, taking Bella away from her parents. Bad, because I may have played a huge role in the destruction of Bella and Renee's relationship. Good, because Renee is a little fucking crazy and completely overbearing when it comes to us raising our son.

"Bah!" he yells, sticking his finger in his Brightside's nose.

"Grody!" Emmett laughs. Bella does too, standing from her chair to carry Landon away from the room.

"I'm going to clean him up," she announces on her way out the door. I sigh and turn to my mom. She's smiling at me as she leans closer.

"Listen to you, kid. Using that voice of yours to stick up for what you believe in," she mumbles, throwing me a wink.

I look past her to check on Renee. She's still crossed-armed and pouting like a twelve-year-old who didn't get her way.

"So is she," I reply.

Mom shakes her head. "Renee believes she knows what's best, doesn't mean she does."

I nod. I don't want to make things worse between them, but I also won't let Renee dictate Bella's every move.

"I'll be back," I say, scooting away from the table.

I walk down the hall to find Bella in the bathroom. She stands in front of the sink with LC on her hip, digging into his diaper bag with her free hand. I walk over to take Landon and he practically jumps out of his mother's arms.

"Bah!" he screams as I envelop him. His hands go straight for my hair and tug, something he keeps doing to anyone who holds him.

"Hi, buddy." I smile and pull his hand back, planting a kiss on the outside of his hand. I look to Bella to see she's still rummaging through the bag and reach out to take her wrist. "Hey, you okay?"

She nods, looking flustered. "I'm okay. I just … I don't know what I'm doing—"

"Don't tell me you're actually listening to her, Bella."

She sniffles and looks down at the ground. "She's right, though. I can't be a good mother, I don't have a clue—"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I interrupt.

"Bah!" Landon reaches for Bella.

"Bella, if anyone here knows how to do this, it's you. Do you know how lost I feel when you leave me alone with him? You're the only one who knows how to make him laugh, or stop crying. You stay up all night and let me sleep—I feel like the lazy parent here."

She shakes her head, her eyes glossing over with tears. "No, you're not lazy. You do everything for us. You gave us a home and—"

"And you work just as hard," I interrupt. "Maybe your mom doesn't see that, but I do."

LC starts tugging on Bella's ponytail. "She does. She just doesn't like to see me making mistakes, and maybe he is one in her eyes. She acts like… the A word is still an option, when it's not. She thinks I'm going to drop out of school again."

"No." I groan. "That's not going to happen."

"It won't," she agrees.

"Bah!" LC yells, palming Bella's face and forcing her to look at him. She giggles.

"What's up?" she asks. "You want to talk to Mommy and Daddy, too?"

He rests his head on her shoulder and lifts the necklace I got her last year to start playing with it. Bella runs his fingers through his light brown hair. "Let's get back out there. I don't care what anyone thinks right now."

I nod. "You sure you don't just want to leave?"

She shakes her head. "No. My mom will apologize again later, she just has her moments."

I follow her out of the bathroom. "Yeah, well, don't let her 'moments' bring you down again because I won't let her talk to you like that, and I'm sure Charlie would agree."

She nods, and LC squirms to get to me. I take him and then grab Bella's hand before turning back to the roomful of crazy family.

"Ready?" I ask.

Taking a deep breath, she gives my hand a squeeze.

"As ever."

* * *

 **A/N: i'll post more soon! Thank you for reading!**


	40. Year 2 Part 1

**A/N: hello beautiful people! guys (CeCe) I'm sorry this took so long! As you may already know by now, Frannie is my beta, Fyrebyrd89 is my prereader, and she caught so much after I tweaked the heck out of this!**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **Year 2**

 **Part 1**

"I'm freaking out!" Bella yells over Cold War Kids.

"Relax!" I steal her hand to entwine our fingers. I won't admit it, but I'm freaking out too. "I wouldn't leave him with Alec if I didn't have complete faith in him."

Miss Paranoia has these ideas swirling in her head that Alec is feeding Landon sugar water and doing parkour stunts all night. I don't fucking think so. Alec is really cool, but he takes care of his kid. He knows more about being a parent than I do, that's for fucking sure.

"Come on," I relent, leading her away from the crowd. Every which way I look, there are sweaty, dancing bodies. Even Bella is glistening with sweat, which I would find sexy if not disgusting. It's mid-hot-as-fuck-July, and everyone is huddled together, giving off more unnecessary body heat.

"No, I change my mind," she objects.

I turn to her, arching an eyebrow. "You're only saying that because I bought the tickets."

A guy trying to get by brushes his torso along Bella's back—too fucking close and personal—and I feel my eyes bulge. She's dressed in white shorts and a hot pink tank top that exposes far too much cleavage. I would've noticed sooner had we not rushed to get here on time.

We were too busy hunting down a last minute babysitter. The OB (original babysitter, or my mom) got called into work. Instead of asking Bella's parents to take Landon at this time of night, I suggested we give Alec a call. Twenty minutes later, he was at the front door with Cal in his arms. I practically dragged Bella out of the apartment in an effort to get here on time, never once minding what she threw on.

"No, we're leaving," I insist, adamant about getting her away after having seen her attire.

I notice some random dude behind her checking—no _, gawking_ —at her ass. I adjust my footing so I'm stepping between her flip-flops, wrapping an arm around her shoulder while glaring back at him. He lifts his eyes to mine and blanches at my expression.

I smirk, turning my head back to kiss Bella's temple. "I don't want to go, let's stay for a few more songs." She pulls the shirt down more, and I shake my head, fixing the straps. She laughs. "Edward, come on—it's hot."

I purse my lips and pull at the straps more so her chest is completely covered. "Just keep it there. Don't jump around anymore."

She pushes my hand away. "Cut it out."

I shake my head. "You should've worn a jacket."

Bella lifts a disbelieving eyebrow, and I shut up, turning back to the band. "Sorry," I murmur, pursing my lips.

We stay for three more songs, and then Bella decides she wants to get ice cream and go home where we can crank up the A/C. I tell her I'm down and give the asshole behind us one last deadly glare before we leave.

I mess with her as soon as we're in the parking lot. "You had to wear that?"

"Clothes?" she asks innocently. "Yeah."

She stops walking as we reach the third row of cars and points down the street. I look in the direction she's pointing. "What?" I ask, wondering what the hell she's looking at. "A stray cat?"

She frowns, tears springing to her eyes without delay—something I'm used to at this point. Bella will cry over spilled milk any day. "Hold on," she says, breaking off into a jog toward the cat. I palm my forehead, already shaking my head back and forth in a definite motion.

"No way." I follow after her. When she picks up a small, orange kitten, I cringe and walk faster. "No, Bella, we're not bringing that thing home with us."

She smiles—that heart-shattering, knock-me-to-my-knees, breath-taking beamy kind of smile—at the kitten. "Well …"

I shake my head again. I'm above that fucking smile. "No."

She glares at me. I choke a little, so unused to this dark side of Bella.

I square my shoulders. "Put it down, Bella."

There's no way in hell we're taking that thing home with us.

Her lower lip juts out, her eyes glistening with tears once again.

"He doesn't have a home, Edward." She holds the kitten to my face, and I gag at his sad little eyes. "He looks exactly like Mr. Meowgi."

So, she holds the kitten on the ride home, but I make her promise to put him in the bathroom until we can bring him to the vet. I don't want that thing around the baby until we get him checked out and we know he's clear of any diseases.

I almost pass out when we come home to find the apartment remarkably cleaner. It's not like we're dirty or anything, but there are usually toys or something that LC threw on the floor. It looks like someone swept, cleaned off the coffee table and fluffed the couch pillows. Alec is sitting onthe couch, drinking a Monster while watching WWE with Cal asleep in his lap.

"You're home early," he comments, checking his wristwatch.

"It's eleven-thirty." Bella eyes him warily. "Did you throw a party? Where's Landon?"

He gives us a questioning look, which makes my stomach turn. "He's _asleep_. Where else would he be?"

Bella gasps.

"Are you a wizard?" I whisper, leaning in.

Bella nods in agreement, walking past us to bring the kitten to the bathroom. "He's usually up for another half-hour, at least."

I tell her to wash her hands before going into Landon's room, and I swear I see her flipping me off in my periphery.

"Nope. No wizardry here." He grins. "How was the concert?"

"It was fun." I shrug. "Obviously we left early. How did you get him to sleep?" I wonder, leaning in to inspect Cal and see if he's really asleep. Cal's a few years older than Landon and looks exactly like Alec. I wonder if my kid will look like me. He already has my hair and eye color; it's just bizarre to think about.

"We wore him out," Alec explains, wearing a grin. "The more you play with them, the more energy they burn off."

I wonder how Alec has that kind of energy, but that would explain the can of Monster. I always interact with LC, but it's more pointless banter than actually engaging in activities with him. Bella does stuff with him all the time, but I'm usually too tired by the time I get home.

I don't know how she does it all, but I thank God for her every day.

"Can cats eat carrots?" Bella asks from the hallway, munching on a bag of baby carrots.

I shake my head. Alec stands from the couch, bringing Caleb with him. He hardly even stirs in his sleep; the kid is knocked out cold. "I guess I'll head home."

I nod. "Thanks for watching him. And Martha Stewarting my home. That was considerate."

I try to pay him fifty bucks for watching LC, but he refuses. "No, don't worry about it, man. Really, I don't need it, and Cal had a blast tonight."

I frown. "So you'll steal Bella's money, but you won't take mine?"

He laughs. "That's Bella's fault for betting against me."

Bella snaps off a baby carrot between her teeth and shrugs, turning away from us. "I'm going to find tuna."

"You do that, loser," Alec replies, carrying Cal over to the door. I open it for him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Later, dude-bro," I call after him, already walking back to LC's room to be sure he's really asleep.

Next on my list: Get rid of the cat.

.

.

.

The funniest part of my day: watching my kid rock out in the backseat of the car. I record it every time, simply because it's the best thing I'll ever see. He'll jam to any song, any time, _except_ when I turn it on the country station. That's when I know he's my kid.

He stops dancing and gives me a furrowed-brow look that says, _what is this?_

We're on our way to the market. Landon is in the backseat, bopping his head to a Grouplove song when I swear I can hear him singing along to the lyrics: _I've got a little bit longer._ I have to turn down the radio just to hear him a little clearer and be sure that I'm not going crazy.

Landon rarely speaks, especially around other people, but when he does, he says simple things like _mommy, daddy,_ and he comes up with new words every day. Until this point, I've never heard my son utter a full sentence. Only he doesn't just utter it, he sings it.

 _Loud._

"I got ways to go!"

I'm so thrilled when I hear it, I don't even care what the meaning of the lyrics are. I can see why he would sing along, it's a catchy, upbeat song, who cares what it's about?

I laugh and turn it up a little louder, not wanting to deter him. "Come on, buddy. Sing it."

He does, although he doesn't really know the lyrics to the rest of the song, he knows the chorus by heart. He kicks his feet and bops his head, screaming along. This kid's got a set of lungs.

I call Bella as soon as we get to the store to tell her.

"That's so awesome," she says, laughing. "I wish I could've been there. I miss you guys."

"We miss you too." I smile, pulling the phone away to press it to Landon's ear. "You want to tell Mommy you miss her?"

He frowns, taking the phone from me to hold it awkwardly against his cheek. "Michu Mommy."

 _This kid._

My heart swells, and I take the phone back before he drops it. "You still there?"

"Yeah." She sighs. "I'm just going crazy here. I need a new job."

I nod in agreement. Bella's job only pays minimum wage, and I make double that plus commission at GameShack. Aro gives me a raise every five months, and Bella's been working at Lilly's for the same pay rate for over a year and a half.

"Don't worry about it … you'll find something," I say, pulling Landon's finger from his left nostril and using a package of tissues from my back pocket to wipe his nose.

Yeah, I still carry tissues in my back pocket _._

 _Judge all you want, but don't come bitching to me when you need to blow your nose later._

I hear her sigh. "I know, it's just ridiculous. Everyone in this town knows I have a kid, I dropped out of high school—"

"Fuck what they think," I interrupt, my blood boiling. Landon blinks at me, probably concerned over my sudden outburst. I pinch his nose and put on a smile for his benefit. "They don't control you, Bella. If you don't want to work here, fine, maybe you should find something closer to PA, but don't let them cut you down like that."

I can hear her sighing. "That's too far, Edward."

"Then we'll move. You can transfer schools, and I'll stay home and take care of Landon because he's too cute right now," I mumble, leaning over the cart to blow a raspberry on his cheek. He tenses away, giggling.

Bella laughs, too. "I love you … but we're staying in Forks. Our families are here, and it wouldn't be right to take Landon away from all that. Not only would my parents be pissed, but your mom would murder me."

I purse my lips, afraid that I have to agree with her. "We'll figure something out. Together."

She sighs softly. "Okay … together."

Landon, who's sitting in the cart, twists around to reach for a pack of razors. "Daddy," he whines. I pass him something less likely to cause injury—a box of cereal. He throws it on the floor. "No!" he screams.

"Don't throw." I try to sound stern as I bend over to pick it up, then stop short as I spot a familiar figure in the aisle.

No. Fucking. Way.

I don't immediately recognize him, but it's almost as if I can sense it's really him. He's so different than he was a few years ago. His demeanor is relaxed; shoulders slouched and head tilted to the side. Even his outfit is unlike the Jim I knew—gray V-neck, tan cargo shorts and dark gray Chucks. He's standing beside a blond-haired girl with his arm draped over her shoulder as they pick out a collection of paint swatches

I'm just about to turn around and haul out of there when Jim turns around and meets my gaze.

We just stand there like statues for a minute, staring at each other. Then Landon wiggles in his seat, whimpering. "Oot, Daddy! Out!" Jim's eyes land on LC, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

I nod, pulling him out of the cart seat and setting him on the ground. I grasp his hand to keep him from running off—because this kid likes to run, not walk. When I see he isn't going to cooperate, I lift him in my arms instead, just as Jim finally walks in our direction.

I don't raise my head until he reaches us, somehow finding this moment extremely terrifying.

 _What if this was me?_

 _What if I'd noticed channel three in the store, and I'd wanted him two years ago when I couldn't have him?_

Jim didn't get that—we never even considered giving the baby to him after he split with Victoria. I wanted Landon too much, and Bella did too. Whether or not we were good enough didn't matter anymore, we could no longer bear the thought of giving our child away to either of them.

It rips me apart inside. Would we have done it if he'd asked?

Honestly, it seems like a possibility. We trusted Jim, but they had breached a bump of epic proportions, and all trust flew out the window.

Victoria and James painted a perfect picture for us, letting us believe that they were happily married, so in love, and the parents of our dreams for our son. The truth: their picture was fake, and we were the parents of our dreams.

Jim is cautious as he approaches us, but he composes a smile on his face as he stops in front of the cart.

"Hey, man," I say, hoping this will be enough to dissolve the tension sparking through the air. I know he's probably wondering if I'm still angry with him—not that I ever really was. I was a kid without a clue what to do next and had a panic attack at every turn my life would take, so naturally I took that out on Jim.

"Wow," he murmurs, looking to Landon then back to me. "I was going to ask if that's your kid, but …"

I chuckle. LC squirms in my arms and places his head on my shoulder, digging his face intomy neck. "Um, this shy little guy is Landon." I pull my neck away to try to get him to poke his head out. He slowly sticks out his hand and waves.

"Jim? What are you doing?" a woman calls from behind us. She meets Jim's side, looking between us warily before she sends me an apprehensive smile.

"I'm Edward," I introduce myself, holding my hand out. She steps forward to shake my hand.

"Bree… oh." She gasps, her eyes flitting from Landon to Jim. "You're Edward … Edward, Edward."

Landon squirms and points to Bree's stomach. "Baby!"

I follow his eyes and notice that the girl is, in fact, pregnant. I want to ask him how—but my only guess is it's not his.

"Sorry," Jim says, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Edward. I don't know where I went there for a second. This is my fiancée, Aubrey."

Aubrey-Bree smiles and waves at Landon. "Hi, buddy. Wow, you look just like your daddy."

I try not to get overly flattered by this, but how can I not? Not to say that I'm the sexiest fucker around—but I'm not bad to look at. Combine my looks with Bella's unadorned beauty, and you get Landon Carlisle.

He buries his face in my neck again, but I can feel him smiling.

"Don't be shy." I poke his rib and he giggle. "Be nice and say hello."

"Hewwo," he murmurs into my neck.

"Engaged, huh?" I ask Jim. He smiles and nods. "I should jump on that train. We talked about it."

That isn't exactly true. We haven't talked about it, but I don't see a reason why Bella wouldn't marry me. We know we're in love, we want to spend the rest of our lives like this. Together. Marriage hasn't exactly been at the top of my priority list, which has been extremely long, and growing longer the older I get.

Now it's slowly becoming my top priority.

It's like Alec says: put a ring on it.

"You two are still together?" Jim asks, grinning at me. "I knew you would. You two were like a team back then, almost the same person. I'm glad it all worked out."

I nod, smiling a little. "It did."

.

.

.

"So it's his kid?"

I shrug, keeping an eye on Landon in my periphery. He's sitting on the floor with the cat, which I find mildly disgusting.

"It's not-not, his kid. It's his brother's." Bella chokes on her soda, and I cringe. "Not like that—he donated sperm."

"Perm," Landon says from the floor.

I blanch, and then glare at Carrot, Bella's kitten. I snap at it, and the fucker hisses at me. "I don't like that thing, Bella."

"Carrot loves you," she lies through her teeth, bending at the waist to pick him up. "Stop being so pessimistic. We love the kitten, don't we, Landon?"

LC looks to me, almost as if he can detect an argument about to begin. He grins when I shake my head. "Nu-uh," he murmurs, picking up his Tonka truck to race it across the floor.

Bella's face falls and her shoulders slouch, and I instantly regret playing her like that. LC does love the stupid cat—he's too busy playing with his toys to care what we're talking about.

She sighs. "I'm glad he's happy, even if it's weird." She sets the kitten to the floor, and he prances over to the toy cars. "Landon is two years old. They must not have been together very long before they did … whatever they did."

I nod slowly, making sure Carrot stays away from LC. I reach down to pick up the kitten, and he instantly curls around my hand, biting at my finger. "No." I sigh. He wraps his paws around my hand, latching onto my arm so he hangs off it like a monkey.

Landon giggles and gets to his feet, walking over to us. "Nice, Cawwot," he says, taking the kitten back. I'm about to pull it back when Carrot curls into his arms, no longer playing as he was a few minutes ago. "Good, Cawwot."

Bella smirks. "Told you he was good."

I bend over the chair to kiss Landon's cheek. "That's right, nice Carrot." The cat curls itsclaws into my shirt, attaching himself to my chest as I sit back. Landon falls back on the floor in a fit of giggles as the orange ball of fur climbs my shoulder to attack my hair.

Bella senses my agitation and pulls the cat away. She places a soft kiss on my cheek, and the irritation melts away. "Listen to that laugh," she whispers, and I do.

It's kind of the best sound in the world.

* * *

 **A/N: *clears throat* so yeah, there's one more after this, and then that's the end of Lover Of The Light ... :/ ... in other news, Fyrebyrd89 and I created a FB page to post updates, teasers, pics, etc. I'm sort of working on something but my main priority (besides RL) is updating my other fics. You can find us at Fyregirl Fics if you want to come check it out, like us and such! Thank you so much!**


	41. Year 2 Part 2

**A/N: Fran is my beta, and Fyrebirch (just Fyrebirch now) is my prereader, but I did tweak this a bit so all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 **Year 2**

 **Part 2**

I've never been short on rent money. When Bella and I went in on this apartment, we put our savings together knowing we'd be able to pay the first six months without any problem. From there, we saved what we could, which wasn't much.

We got lucky. The first year was easy. Landon never got too low on formula or diapers, we didn't struggle to pay bills, or keep him clothed and fed. It never got overly stressful, and our parents were with us every step of the way, keeping our heads in the right place financially.

Our debt had the snowball effect. It rolled slowly downhill, then grew bigger and harder to avoid the longer we let it go. When you're trying to make the rent, debt's the least of your problems. Until it isn't.

"I could become a hooker," Brightside jokes, and I shake my head, raking my hands through my hair.

"I can't believe you asked your mom for money." I fist my hands into my hair to keep from slamming them into the table.

She takes a shaky breath. "Well, what was I supposed to do, Edward?"

"Tell me that we weren't going to be able to pay the fucking rent, first of all," I mutter, plucking the bill from the table and spinning it between my fingers.

She takes a deep breath, and I don't bother looking back at her. I'm livid beyond coherency, attempting to see her views but also not caring what she was thinking.

"You act like it's not okay to ask for help."

"Yeah, _help,_ Bella. Not a thousand dollars. I would rather go around Forks panhandling than accept a fucking dime from your mother."

My eyes snap to hers, and she shakes her head, holding back tears. "Why?"

"Why?" I repeat. "Every time we ask your mom for help, even to watch her own grandkid, she acts like we're asking for her to donate her left leg."

Bella sighs. "Edward, she's just giving us a hard time. She's kidding—"

"Give the money back," I interrupt, standing from the chair and turning my back to her. I walk to our bedroom and reach back for the collar of my work shirt to pull it off, already hearing her trailing behind me.

"Are you seriously—"

"I'm so fucking serious, Bella," I snap back, toeing off my shoes. I can hear her huffing behind me and make the mistake of peering over my shoulder to look at her. "What?!"

She widens her arms at me, her eyes glossing over with tears. "How are we supposed to pay the rent, Edward? Are you really just going to let your pride get the best of you when we can't even afford groceries this month?"

"No. We'll figure it out, but we're not using your mother's money to pay our bills."

"You think I don't know that you did the same?!" she yells over me. "I know you've asked Esme for help, Edward."

I nod. She isn't wrong about that; my mom has helped me from time to time.

"Yeah, she gives me fifty bucks every now and then—something I can actually pay back."

"Your mom would never let you pay her back," she replies dryly, crossing her arms over her torso. "Your mom has helped us through everything, _my mom_ was happy to help. She wasn't angry, she didn't judge us—"

"Yet," I cut her off. "She hasn't said anything about it _yet._ "

She shakes her head. "Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? We need money, Edward. We need to feed our kid, and have shelter, and you're too worried about what my mother thinks to suck up your pride—"

"I didn't even know we needed support until fifteen minutes ago!" I shout back. "You didn't fucking tell me before you ran, crying to your mom!"

She flinches away from me and shakes her head. "Because I didn't want to—"

"Stop making me out to be the bad guy because I don't want to take money from that bitch."

"She's not a bitch!" she shouts back. "My mom knows she said things in the past and she's sorry, but I'm not going to lie to her and pretend like everything's fine when it's not. She asked how we were doing, and I told her—I didn't even _ask_ her for the money, she offered."

A cry sounds from the next room, and I snap out of my anger-induced trance.

I look down to watch as Bella wipes her cheeks with the sleeves of her jacket. She brushes past me to walk to the baby's room. I groan, pressing my fingers against my eyelids in an attempt to calm myself down.

It isn't Bella's fault we don't have enough money. Even as I was yelling at her, I knew how fucked up it was to make her feel like shit for doing something I probably would've ended up doing anyway. Only I would never, in a million years, ask Renee Swan for help.

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and take a seat on the bed, listening to Bella in the next room. She's murmuring softly to LC, trying to coax him back to sleep after being awaken by our screaming match.

When she re-enters the room a few minutes later, I apologize for raising my voice and calling her mother a bitch. She responds with a small smile and lets me hug her.

"We'll figure it out," I promise, kissing her teary cheeks. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I know we need help, but let me know next time, okay?"

Her bottom lip trembles as we pull apart, and I feel even shittier. "This isn't your responsibility alone, Edward. You go to work, go to school—my parents know we can't juggle everything at once, there's nothing wrong with slipping every once in a while and asking for help getting back on your feet. We'll pay her back when we can, but she's not going to say anything to my dad or anyone else about this."

I consider her words as a stare back at her, caught off guard by the promise in her magnetic brown eyes.

"Okay." The word falls easily, every fragment of pinning frustration sliding off my chest. "We're in this together … remember that the next time you think _we_ need help."

.

.

.

"Apple, or banana?"

I always let him make these decisions. He knows better than anyone what he likes best, and he's not afraid to ask. "Dat one," he mumbles between his fingers. I pull them from his mouth and tell him to speak clearer. "Nanas."

I nod, picking the box of banana puffs and tossing them in the basket. I pause when I notice Jake Black and Leah Clearwater at the end of the aisle. They're cackling loudly, shoving each other playfully. They're stumbling and smiling, probably stupid-drunk and don't give a fuck.

"Who dat?" Landon asks, noticing me staring.

"Old friends of Daddy's," I answer, shifting him to my other arm. "Come on, now I'll let you pick out Mommy and Daddy's dinner."

"Whoa, Edward!" Jake calls, and I stop, cringing internally. I knew it was a bad idea to look back at them a few seconds ago, but I was curious.

Once upon a time, I had the same kind of freedom Jake Black did. Stayed up all night, slept all day, drank it away and smoke to brush off the hangover. It's the kind of freedom you get lost in and daydream about later on. Stolen freedom like that is only temporary, it comes back to bite.

My bite came in the form of a baby I couldn't figure out what to do with, and an optimistic girl who forced me to see there's more to life than what I looked forward to at the end of a bottle.

"Hey," I call back to Jake, pulling LC closer, practically hiding him under my arm. They start walking my way. "What's up, man?"

"Aww, hi cutie," Leah coos, and Landon smiles widely for her. He waves shyly and grins, hiding his face in my shoulder. "He's so cute."

I smile at her, like _yeah, obviously, I know._

"You just disappeared, man," Jake says, widening his arms at me. He grins at LC. "I see you got a little busy."

 _"Seriously? Yeah, I was pretty fucking busy man. Got a kid I can't afford, and the girlfriend is doing a double shift today, but don't worry—she'll only get paid half of that because the company she works for sucks. I'm digging my grave at this point. So yeah, I can't just dick around all day like some people."_

I smile at him. He looks back at me, still awaiting my response.

"Yeah, things have been pretty crazy," I finally reply. "Doing adulthood, you know?"

He has not the slightest fucking idea.

"No kidding," he mumbles. "Well, if you ever want to hang out, give me a call. I know you've gotta be busy with this one on your hands."

Landon lifts his head slowly. "Okay, bye now."

 _No. Way._

I shift, trying to keep my laugh at bay as I look from Jake to LC. "Uh, well, you heard him," I breathe shakily, trying so fucking hard. "It's good seeing you, Jake."

"Uh, yeah … you too, man."

I barely manage a wave to Leah before I turn down the next isle and unleash it all, laughing so hard I shake Landon. "Daddy loves you so much, LC. You know that?" I kiss his soft temple. He sticks a finger between his lips and nods.

"Animows," he says, pointing to a box of animal crackers. I toss them into the basket.

"Heck yeah!" I exclaim, blowing a raspberry on his cheek. "You earned those."

I never said I knew how to parent right.

.

.

.

"You can't bring her back to life, baby," I tell him, pulling the fish away from his mouth. I told Bella not to let him hold it in the first place.

"Sleeping beauty," Bella mumbles under her breath. She peeks at me under her eyelashes, chewing on her bottom lip worriedly. "Mom told me he watched it the other day."

"Kiss her back to wife?" LC asks, shaking his head back and forth. He brings the fish to his mouth again, and Bella quickly pulls it away.

I'm nine-nine percent sure Carrot killed Harriot, Landon's fish.

"You can't kiss her back to life," I murmur.

Bella tells Landon about fish heaven. She makes up this story about Harriet, being surrounded by mermaids and sea turtles and having a shark as a best friend.

"No!" he cries, shaking his head back and forth. "Shawks wiw eat her!"

"Shh shh," she hushes him, brushing her fingers through his light copper hair. "No, she can't get hurt in fish heaven. Remember?"

"Oh." He tries to kiss the fish again, and I finally take it away from him and make him wash his hands.

He starts crying, of fucking course.

Bella wants me to give the fish back, but I flush it down the toilet instead. LC throws himself on the ground, and Bella gives me this look that says she wants to kill me.

"No goodbye, Daddy!" he cries, choking on his own sobs.

He did say goodbye, twenty times.

"You said goodbye."

"Edward." Bella gives me a pleading look, and I realize I screwed up.

Sighing under my breath, I bend to his level, taking his face in my hands. His soft cheeks are red, hot from crying. He hiccups and wraps his hands around mine and I fight back tears of my own. I hate seeing him like this. His pale green eyes glossed with tears and lips trembling.

"Daddy," he croaks between sobs, throwing his arms over my shoulders. I lift him in my arms and rub his back soothingly.

"Daddy's sorry," I whisper, honestly regretting my decision to flush the fish down the toilet. "I'm sorry. He's all right. He heard you say goodbye, I promise."

I walk around the apartment, holding him and reassuring him that his fish is okay in fish heaven. He's filled with questions that I have to make up answers to as I go along, like "yeah, he might know grandpa Carlisle," and, "no, he doesn't need food. He's a fish angel."

An hour later, Landon is sleeping soundlessly on my shoulder. Bella wants to take him, but I don't want to risk waking him so I sit at the kitchen table. I do my homework with him sleeping in my arms while she does hers.

By midnight, I have my homework done and Bella's drooling on hers, snoring softly. Careful not to wake him, I tiptoe into LC's room and tuck him into bed. He wakes up for a split second but falls fast asleep when he realizes he's in his bed. I kiss his forehead and take off his shirt. His blood runs hot, he'll end up kicking all his covers off if I don't.

Bella's still sleeping on her essay when I return. I move it out from under her face and set it on the opposite end of the table, knowing she'll need to wake up early in the morning to type it out on the computer.

I slide my hand under her shirt to knead my fingers over her shoulders, bending down to kiss her cheek.

"Brightside," I say softly. Her eyes crinkle.

"Chicken fries in the fridge," she mumbles.

I laugh. "I'm not hungry, baby."

She opens her eyes, disoriented. She blinks a few times before facing me. "Oh … shit, I must've passed out again. Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You need sleep, Bella. You've been up since three last night." I shake my head. "Come on, let's go to bed."

She pouts but agrees and I help her to her feet. She trudges behind me on the way to our bedroom, mumbling something about chicken fries and coleslaw for lunch. There're toys strewn about our bedroom floor. LC tends to come in early in the morning dragging his whole toy box with him. I kick them out of the way to pave a path to the bed. "…maybe tomorrow…" I hear her say, but I'm already half asleep.

I flop back in bed and she crawls up to fall beside me. On instinct, I pull her closer to me and she buries her face in my neck. Eyes closed, face pointed to the ceiling, I think I'm finally going to get to fall asleep and—

"I'll buy him a new fish tomorrow."

I open my mouth to respond, but I'm already halfway to dream-city. "Oh ... kay."

She snores loudly, making me jump. I can't decide if I'm going to have a heart attack, or bust out laughing.

And then she nestles her face into my neck again, and her snores turn into hums, and I can't help but smile. Because even though this is so hard, I'm so tired, and I don't know if we're doing this right ...

There's no place I'd rather be.

.

.

.

Watching Bella cook is one of my favorite pastimes. She puts on this festive music—always something I've never heard before—ties an apron around her waist and starts dancing around our kitchen. The cat circles her legs, I do my homework, and Landon is usually bored around the same time I'm trying to study, so he climbs on my lap and makes himself comfortable, singing along to the music he doesn't know a word of.

He's a musical kid; it doesn't matter if he's never heard the song before. He'll hum along, loud and proud, creating his own lyrics.

This is our nightly ritual; the only time of day when we really get to be together, no matter what.

Tonight, we're joined by Brightside's parents, which would be great if our kitchen wasn't the size of Charlie's big toe.

Eating in silence is awkward, but Landon makes sure to break the ice by singing to us.

"Say someding I giving uh on yoooo." He tries his best to say the words, but falls off mid-sentence and hums.

Bella throws her head back and laughs.

Renee furrows her eyebrows, looking between us all like we're crazy.

"It's a song, Mom," Brightside explains.

Landon tries to feed me his mashed potatoes. He attempts to stick his purple spoon to my mouth, and I respectfully decline. "No thank you, sir. This is your meal, and yours alone. Eat your green beans please."

"Gween bweans pwease," he mocks, smearing mashed potatoes along his tray.

He'll do this for ten minutes, until Bella picks up his spoon and re-teaches him how to feed himself. He knows how, but Landon is above the average eating utensil—finds them useless when he could use his fingers instead.

"How's school going, kids?" Charlie asks, breaking the awkward silence.

"Ma-Mah?" Landon asks, extending his purple spoon to Renee.

She smiles and shakes her head.

"It's good," Bella answers. "In a few months I can graduate."

"Graduate?" Renee echoes, furrowing her brows. "But I thought you were going on to a four-year college? Wasn't that the plan?"

Bella pales slightly. "Um … Mom, no. I'm getting my nursing license, I've been with FCC's program for over a year and a half now."

"But you've always stated that you were going to continue going to college? You're settling for community college?" Renee's eyes flit from Bella to me, and back. "What happened?"

"I had a baby," Bella answers dryly. "Shit happens, Mom. What can I say? It's not always going to work out how you expect. Sometimes you have to let go of the shit you had planned to accept the future you have waiting."

Renee nods. "I …" She looks between Charlie and Bella. "I understand it won't be easy, Bella. But you don't have to settle for—"

"I'm not settling for anything, I'm moving forward. You should be happy for me, I've worked hard to get here. There's nothing wrong with FCC."

Charlie takes the silence that follows as a chance to speak up. "Well, I'm proud of you, sweetheart. I think you have a bright future ahead of you."

Bella looks at him for a moment before she cracks a smile. "Thanks, Dad."

Charlie grins at her then turns to face me. "What about you, Edward? You still going to FCC?"

"I switched to an IT program."

He purses his lips. "You're still not sure what you want to do?"

I note Renee rolling her eyes in my periphery and lift my glass of water while Landon starts singing more songs in the background. "Do—do—do—bahhh!"

"I can get my associates in business," I explain. "But I don't see that being very useful in the near future, if you know what I mean."

"Business, hmm?" Charlie murmurs. He seems to contemplate this for a moment before he leans forward. "You'd know how to run a business?"

I furrow my brows. "Um, no—"

"Dad." Bella sighs, and I hear Renee snicker.

"What?" He turns to look at them, and my eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Bella looks to me. "Dad's always wanted to run his own garage. As soon as we moved to Forks, he thought—"

"It's a pipe dream," Renee chimes in.

"It's no dream," Charlie interrupts. "I know how to take care of a car, just teach this kid and we'll be set." He jabs his thumb to me. "Look at him and tell me you don't see him being a mechanic."

Bella laughs. "Dad, why don't you ask him? Instead of jumping to the conclusion that Edward would want to work at a garage for the rest of his life."

I chew on my bottom lip, wondering if I could actually do that.

Two years ago, I compared repairing an automobile to rocket science. Last week, I replaced Alec's rear disc brake pads in under an hour without a problem. I was just messing around with him when I offered to do it, but as soon as he offered me a hundred bucks, I jumped on Google to learn about what I was doing. I even went to the Chief for advice, which is probably why he'd think I was interested.

"Okay," I agree.

Bella drops her fork and turns to me. "Really?"

Renee huffs, Charlie grins, and Landon throws his mashed potatoes across the room.

.

.

.

"Keep your head in the books," Charlie says in his best boss tone. "I know it doesn't sound easy, but it's a lot easier than it looks. This ain't rocket science, boy. You can read, right? Use your hands?"

I nod, scratching at the scruff on my jaw. I tried to shave this morning, but Bella's been hiding my razors as she's decided that she no longer sees them necessary.

 _"But sexy man-scruff," she said, wearing a pout as she played with the hair on my face. "I'll look for them but, Edward, I didn't take your razors."_

Amazingly, she discovered my razors _after_ I exited the apartment this morning.

Whatever.

"You listening to me, kid?" Charlie asks.

I nod. "I already read the book you gave me."

He tilts his jaw to me, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. "Who are you trying to fool?"

I clear my throat, shaking my head. "No one, Charlie. I'm a fast reader. You'd be amazed at how quickly you can read when you're trying to hold a baby."

I remincse about the days when I had to watch LC back when he couldn't hold the bottle for himself. I could read, hold the baby on one arm, feed him, and myself at the same time.

"All right," Charlie grumbles, scratching his head as he looks from me to the piece of junk in his garage. "You fix this, then you get to keep it."

I lift an eyebrow. "Huh?"

It isn't a bad car, really. It's a newer version of a Honda Pilot, in white, but the hood is completely destroyed, so I can't imagine what kind of damage lies underneath.

"I'll get the parts you need. If you can tell me what they are, that is," Charlie says, already heading for the door. "If you can tell me what needs to be done, where, and how much, I'll help you fix it up, and it's yours. Good luck, fast reader."

I stare at the car, clueless as to where I'm supposed to start.

 _This ain't rocket science, boy._

I sigh, walking up to the hood to yank it open. "Fuck it."

.

.

.

She stands at the podium, nervously tugging at the sleeves of her blue gown. Her eyes are trained on the ground, lips pursed and fingers twitching at her sides. I can't help smiling. I'm happy.

"There's Mommy," I whisper, shaking Landon to get his attention. He looks up and a wide, toothy grin spreads across his face.

"Mommy!" he screams to gain Bella's attention. She glances in our direction and a smile breaks out, all nervousness banishing.

"Woohoo!" Jasper, Alec, Landon and I cheer as Bella receives her degree. Landon, having a mind of his own, hops off of my lap to run to her.

"Landon!" I yell, but he's already taking off into a full sprint toward her. I hop out of my chair to follow after him, attempting to squeeze through the row of people. "Pardon me," I mumble, tripping over someone's foot. "Sorry, kid's gone rogue. Excuse me."

I make it to the main aisle just in time for Landon to reach Bella at the edge of the stage. She's laughing as she lifts him in her arms, and I notice the other graduates giggling too.

I relax at the sight, taking a deep breath as I make my way over to them. Bella has that smile—the tangled one that gives off this long-winded story without any sentiment of where it's going—but she's still Brightside, making everything better with her phosphorescence.

"Sorry," I mumble as I reach them. "He couldn't wait."

She shifts the third life between us to her hip.

"That's okay," she mumbles, looking between us. "So … where do we go from here?"

* * *

 **A/N: so here we are ... *sniff, sniff* the end. THANK YOU SO MUCH for sticking with me throughout this entire roller coaster ride. Writing this has been fun for me and I cannot properly express how thankful I am for all your reviews/favorites/follows, and recommending Lover to your friends! I couldn't have done it without you guys!**

 **If you have any questions about this story, feel free to ask me in a PM or review and I'll do my best to answer.**


	42. The Brightside

**A/N: ohh I fibbed, I have this one future-futuretake too. Thank you wonderful amazing beta-momma, Fran, for doing this one last chapter for me, and my lovely Fyrebirch who will re-read my re-writes a million times so long as I update :)**

* * *

 **The Brightside**

I'm a runner.

I'll push as fast as I can, for as long as I can, without sparing a glance over my shoulder. I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, and I'll feel weightless as long as I don't look down.

Today, I can't run fast enough.

My pink Chucks are skidding across the concrete, and I can't hear a thing except the sound of my pulse thumping in my ears.

Flowers are falling from my hair, and the girl behind me is laughing so hard that she can barely breathe. I'm struggling to keep my dress from falling, but Rosalie is a good friend; she catches it before it can hit the ground.

"Run faster!" I call over my shoulder, but the blond beauty who spent all morning on my hair smoked a joint before we left. She can barely breathe, and she thinks this is the funniest thing she's ever seen.

It's her fault we're running in the first place. She forgot to get gas and the car broke down halfway to the park. Most people would just call for a ride, but Rosalie doesn't possess a charger for her dead phone, and I left mine at home since I didn't exactly have a place to put it.

I never said I was smart.

So we're running in pink Chucks and American Eagle flats, tripping and heaving for oxygen because we're smokers or we're just out of shape after having a kid. We look like idiots, but we could care less.

"Bel-la!" she gasps out, wrapping her hand around my forearm to yank me back. I trip over purple shoelaces.

"What?" I ask, panting. She points to across the street, and I follow her line of sight until my eyes are directed to a tan Impala. I feel my knees buckle with relief. My brother is sitting behind the wheel of the car, pointing and chuckling as he rolls the window down. He's making fun of me. I don't care, I run to the passenger door with Rosalie laugh-coughing behind me.

"Only you would be late for your own wedding," Jasper mumbles, shaking his head as he unlocks the door for us. "Everyone is waiting for you. Half the town thinks you skipped, but your boyfriend knows you better than that."

"Is Edward okay?" I ask, climbing into the seat and closing the door behind me. "He isn't freaking out, is he? He doesn't think I left?"

 _Oh my god, please don't let him think I got cold feet._

Jasper shakes his head quickly. "No, of course not. He knows you better than that. He said he knew you were going to be late and asked me to come check on you. Never thought I'd see this, though. What happened?"

I explain the situation while he drives. Tears are streaming down his face by the time I finish the story; he's laughing hysterically. Rose focuses on fixing my hair as Jasper teases me about my stupidity. She uses bobby pins to secure the band of flowers to my head and tucks my bangs away with one of the fallen daffodils.

Jasper stops the car in front of the park and I spot my mother sitting at a nearby bench. She's dressed in a pink, knee-length gown and looking across the walkway to the lake, where husband-to-be probably thinks I've forgotten about him.

"Come on, tardy girl," Jasper says, shaking my shoulder to gain my attention.

I turn to him and nod, unbuckling my seatbelt. "I'll be right there. I'm going to talk to her really fast."

He nods. "Don't take too long, the clock is ticking."

As Rosalie and Jasper exit the car, I head toward my mother.

She notices me and stands abruptly, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Oh, Bella," she cries between her fingers. "You look beautiful." Her smile falters. "Why is your dress dirty? You're so late. What have you been doing? Are you getting into trouble with that Rose—"

"Mom," I cut her off, shaking my head. "No, we ran out of gas on the way here. I had to run the rest of the way until Jasper found us."

"Oh. Wow, what a wedding day, huh?" She gives me a once-over before she nods carefully. Her eyes are glossy as she looks at me, smiling tightly. "You're sure about this? I know you're in love, but you're so young, baby. You have forever to get married."

"No, Mom, I don't have forever," I murmur with a small shake of my head. "I'm sure about Edward. I always have been. We're a family, and we're always going to be."

She accepts this statement with a grain of salt, because that's how my mother is. "You were only sixteen—"

"And, now, I'm going to marry him." I take a deep breath as anger-induced warmth splinters across my cheeks. "Would you even have any doubts about us had I not gotten pregnant?"

I know the answer to that. My mom never had an issue with my pregnancy—it was accepting my choice to raise the other life. From the very beginning, she supported Edward and me. She thought she knew what I wanted when I didn't even know what that was. She was the voice in my ear, telling me to be rational, to keep on the path I had planned, when the future I had planned went out the window long before that.

"I only wanted what was best for you." The words fall in such a small voice that I can barely hear her. "Can't you see that? I was never trying to be evil, and neither was your father. We wanted you to do what was right for _you_. You had such a bright future planned, and when you had to give it all away—"

"I never gave anything away, Mom," I reply. "I already have what's best for me, I have a great life. I know I struggle sometimes, but it's worth every second."

My mom knew we were struggling—she never questioned me when she handed me the money, and she never judged Edward or me for needing help.

She cracks an appeasing smile which doesn't reach her eyes. "I know that. Well, I'm sure you can understand … as a parent, you'll always want what's best for _your_ son. That doesn't mean you know what that is, but neither do I. All we can do is try."

I shake my head. "If you're trying to talk me out of marrying Edward, it's not gonna happen," I half-joke.

Her smile widens as she takes a step forward, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. "No, I wouldn't try and separate the two of you." She sighs, pulling away to pinch my cheeks. "I was only teasing earlier—I knew from the beginning that boy was going to stick around for a little while." She adjusts the short sleeves on my dress, brushing at the lintless material.

"Sure," I snort. "If you say so."

I turn to see my father trudging in our direction with widened arms. "Where the hell have you been? You'd be late for your own funeral, girl!"

I suck a lungful of air between my teeth, narrowing my eyes guiltily. "Sorry, Dad."

"Well come on, I have to give someone away," he says with a grin, waving me over to his spot in grass. "Pastor Webber—that poor old man—he's about to take a nap."

I giggle and step across the street, holding my mom's hand tightly. She places a kiss on the back of my hand before passing it to my dad, who's grinning so wide his face could split in half.

"Your dress is dirty," he notes, pointing to the train. I glance to down, noticing the tattered material at the end. I gather the neutral fabric in my free hand, taking a deep breath to keep the nerves welling in my chest at bay.

"Thanks, Dad," I mutter, trying to blink the cloudiness from my eyes.

Am I dying?

The nerves build and an achy fluttering sensation expands through my torso. Dad shakes my arm, and I look back to meet his eyes.

"You look beautiful," he praises with a smile. "Don't pass out now—the kid is already freaking us out with his pacing crap."

"Okay, I'm going to take my seat now," Mom announces, sending me a smile as she walks down the pathway to the lake. "Don't take too long."

I give a small nod, allowing Dad to walk me to the stone steps leading to the lakefront.

"Hey," he chides before we reach the steps, holding his hand out to stop me. I glance up to him, swallowing the ball of nerves in my throat. "What did I tell you? When you were about to start kindergarten, and Jasper spilled orange juice all over your romper ... you were so scared, bawling your eyes out. You remember what I told you?"

I roll my eyes. "Dad, this isn't a romper, it's a wedding dress. And this isn't the first day of kindergarten, it's my wedd"—gulping air—"ing."

"Open your eyes, take a deep breath, pretend as though it's just you and the teacher, and smile."

I lift an eyebrow. "Teacher?"

His eyebrows knit together. "Hmm. Well, I guess you'll have to substitute the teacher with someone else then, won't you?"

 _Edward._

I nod vigorously.

"Good. Now can we get this over with already? I'm starving," Dad grumbles.

I open my eyes, take a deep breath, and nod.

Green.

I try to find it. It's in the moss clinging to the stone as I step down the stairs, the grass we trudge through—and then it's gone. I have nothing more to distract myself with.

"Your shoes are so badass, Brightside," he whispers, and I find green again in smiling eyes.

I laugh, and it's not even a little bit nervous. "I needed something to run in."

Penny-colored strands of hair fall in front of his eyes as he chuckles. He runs a hand through his hair to push them away, smirking as he glances from the ground back to me.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

Time is standing still.

I'm breathing deeper.

And Landon is screaming in the background,

"Love you, Mommy!"

I blow him a kiss, and he shoves it in his pocket.

Edward grins. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

 **A/N: One last author's note before I go LOL ... I forgot to tell you guys Lover Of The Light has been nominated in TFFA for Drop Everything Fic, COF for Snugge Fic and Undiscovered Gem, and I've also been nominated for Newbie Author! Amazing. thank you guys so much, it's an honor just to be listed with all these incredible writers.**

 **For more updates from me you can join Pay it Forward or 'like' Fyregirl Fics on Faceboook! :)**

 **ily.**


End file.
